Interrupted Journeys 9: Bitter Paths
by ellisk
Summary: As we look back on the journey of our life, certain moments stand out as ones that defined the course of that journey. These are the incidents that defined the lives of Thranduil Oropherion and Legolas Thranduilion throughout the Third and Fourth Ages. Part Nine: Difficult lessons and bitter truths.
1. The wisest judgment he could make

**AN:** This is a continuation of a series of stories titled Interrupted Journeys. Parts One through Eight have already been posted. In the case of this story, it is probably necessary to have read at least Part Seven to understand the OCs and their motivations better. Honestly, if you do not know something about the backgrounds of these OCs, you are going to think I know very little about Tolkien's Elves.

This part of the story is set in Legolas's childhood, during his first formal year of training as a warrior. He is near adulthood, at the age of 46. The story is rated PG-13 for violence, disturbing themes and OC death.

**Chapter 1: The wisest judgment he could make**

**TA 1987**

Legolas stood at the end of the line of his fellow First Years, facing Glilavan, and doing his best to appear as if he was listening carefully. He was listening. All the trainees were listening to Glilavan explain the drill they were about to participate in. But Legolas had found over the last year that he had better be sure to make it undeniably plain that he was being attentive. The captain of the training program seemed determined to ensure that Legolas was carefully and thoroughly prepared to serve as a warrior in the Woodland Realm. Or at least, that was the kindest way Legolas could describe Glilavan's behavior towards him. Some of his friends in the training program described it other ways. None of those descriptions were very kind at all, but Legolas was not stupid enough to think that adopting that attitude himself would serve him well, so he endeavored to make sure Glilavan would have no reason to correct him.

"The elves representing Dwarves will be wearing grey tunics," Glilavan was explaining. "Brown will represent Men and black will be for orcs or other enemies. Finally, a green tunic is for Elves from another realm. Any or all of these might appear during your watch, in any combination."

To his left, Legolas heard Anastor repeating the colors and their meanings to himself in a whisper, trying hard to remember them. Only the certainty that Glilavan would fail him on the spot and send him home without even allowing him to take part in this training exercise prevented Legolas from teasing Anastor for his efforts. Honestly! How difficult was it to remember four colors and the races they were supposed to represent?

"As we discussed, you will go with your partners to your assigned positions along the forest edge, manage the encounter with whatever sort of enemy approaches and then stay where you are and await the next part of the test. The enemies will come to you. They move. You do not. Stay inside the range that you were assigned. You will receive your evaluations after you have managed all four scenarios. Understood?"

Legolas joined the others calling, "Yes, sir."

"Are they all going to be enemies then?" one of the adult First Years asked. "Or might the Men and Dwarves be simply travelers?"

Glilavan looked at him sidelong, smirking. "I misspoke, of course. Dwarves and Men are not always enemies of this realm."

Legolas made his expression entirely neutral as Glilavan glanced at him.

"Our King maintains Men and Dwarves as his allies. But be prepared in this exercise to see either the friendly or the not so friendly side of our supposed allies." With that, Glilavan signalled for them to go to their various positions along the forest border. Everyone hurried away, except Legolas. Glilavan froze him in place with a finger pointed straight at him. "A word with you, please," he said.

Legolas remained where he was and met his captain's gaze evenly, but silently he was trying to imagine what he had done to provoke him this time.

As Glilavan walked towards Legolas through the group of departing warriors, he seized Anastor's arm and pulled him, backpeddling, to the spot he had vacated only moments before.

Legolas tried not to frown. He was certain his expression had done nothing earlier to betray his amusement with Anastor's efforts. Well, apparently he was wrong. It must have.

Noruil hesitated, looking over his shoulder at his cousin, but his adult partner wisely tugged at his sleave to keep him moving. The adult First Years that Legolas and Anastor were supposed to be partnered with for this exercise stopped. They stood together, next to a tree several paces away, waiting for their partners with their backs to Glilavan in an effort to afford Legolas and Anastor some privacy.

"You two go ahead and partner with each other," Glilavan said, waving his arm to dismiss the adults.

They cast Legolas and Anastor sympathetic glances and hurried away.

Now Legolas did frown. He had done nothing to deserve being dismissed from the exercise. And Anastor certainly had not. He had sincerely been giving the instructions his fullest attention.

"I want you two to be partners," Glilavan said, finally releasing Anastor's arm after depositing him next to Legolas.

Legolas's eyebrows rose involuntarily and he clenched his jaw to keep his mouth shut while trying to formulate a respectful way to question that order without appearing to challenge Glilavan. Even Anastor was looking quickly from Legolas to Glilavan, drawing a breath to speak.

Tulus stepped forward from the tree he had been leaning against. "They are underage," he reminded Glilavan. "They must work with an adult. That is the rule."

Glilavan scowled at his father and started to walk away. "You are an adult. You will be with Legolas and therefore they will be working with an adult. The rule is satisfied."

Tulus took several long strides to follow Glilavan. Legolas stayed in place, all too happy to allow his guard to fight this battle.

"I am not part of this exercise," Tulus said. "I am here to guard Legolas. Not Legolas and Anastor."

Glilavan stopped and squared off with him. "If they partnered with Hilon and Renion," he said, gesturing towards the adult First Years that had already disappeared amongst the trees, "neither of them is here to guard Anastor either, so there is no need for you to do so. Everyone participating in the drill is expected to be capable of defending themselves. Nonetheless, because these are First Years, this area has been under close watch by the warriors of the Eastern Patrol for the last week in preparation for this drill. My officers swept it today, before we were scheduled to begin. And the Elves acting as Dwarves, Men and Orcs are all Sixth Years, fully capable of defending the forest should anything unexpected arise. There is nothing dangerous here, Tulus. And I am obeying the rules of the program-Legolas and Anastor are working with you, an adult, and with the adult Sixth Years that are playing the roles of the enemies. I thought about the partner assignments while we were traveling to the border and I want to see Hilon and Renion work together again after the difficulties they had in the scouting drill last month. And I would like to see what Anastor makes of some of these scenarios without adult guidance." He turned and pointed at Legolas again. "You let Anastor take the lead in this exercise. You already have experience dealing with foreigners and I am satisfied with it. Anastor does not have that same experience. He needs tested, so let him be."

"Yes, sir," Legolas responded automatically, but his eyebrows went up once again. It was unusual for Glilavan to be satisfied with anything he did, much less for him to admit it.

Tulus drew a breath to continue protesting, but Glilavan turned the finger he had been pointing at Legolas on him and continued speaking without pause. "I am the captain here, Tulus. Not you. Speak to Dolgailon when we return if you insist, but I guarantee that he will support me on this decision. Or speak to the King and we will see if he supports me. For now, my decision stands unless you intend to take Legolas back to the stronghold. Take Anastor with him if you do." With that, Glilavan turned and walked away, following the First Years to the forest edge.

Tulus did not pursue him.

"Legolas!" Anastor exclaimed, sounding distinctly panicked.

Legolas shrugged. "It is not my choice to make," he said softly. But he was not worried. He did not believe for a moment that his guard would force them both to return home.

Tulus watched Glilavan's receding back for a long moment, his hands balled into fists. Then he turned around and looked at Legolas, studying him. He actually appeared to be struggling over the decision to allow him to participate.

Legolas felt his confidence in Tulus quickly fading. He took a step towards his guard. "Honestly, Tulus, Glilavan is right. It is every bit as safe for me to be here now as it would be if I were hunting here, which I have done numerous times. You would not seriously make Anastor and I go home over this?" he asked, keeping his tone level and reasonable.

In contrast, Anastor could always be counted upon to be hot-headed and unreasonable. "You do not have any authority to make me go anywhere!" he declared, glaring at Tulus.

"Except your captain just told you to return with Legolas," Tulus shot back.

Anastor's defiant glare became openly angry.

Legolas gave him a shove and a warning look before stepping between him and Tulus. "Tulus, please," he began, still in a calm voice.

Tulus spoke over him. "I do not like this. Something is not right. The forest here seems...unsettled, somehow. And now Glilavan is changing the conditions of the drill...Making decisions that violate the training program's policies...I just do not like it."  
Legolas frowned. Making decisions that violate policies. Glilavan had done that before and Legolas-and Uncle Aradunnon too-had thought it was some sort of manipulation. Tulus was undeniably right that Glilavan's order was an unusual one. Legolas drew a deep breath and tried to focus on the forest around him-he had been so intent on listening to his captain and then arguing with Tulus that he had not noticed anything 'unsettled' about it, but if Tulus were right about that too...

"Legolas!" Anastor cried, grabbing his arm and giving him a shake.

Legolas looked at his friend's pleading, nearly desperate expression and sighed. This was silly. They were perfectly safe, less then two days travel from the stronghold in a place where Legolas and his friends regularly hunted. He turned back to his guard. "Tulus," he said firmly, "There is no true threat to my safety at the moment. We will be at the forest edge for only half a day and the only enemies we will be encountering are pretend ones. This is not dangerous. If you make us go back to the stronghold, Glilavan could require us both repeat this entire course. That will mean we finish the program a year late, because this is a required course. Please, Tulus, do not make us go back."

Tulus did not move. He did not even blink. He only continued staring at Legolas while weighing what he had said.

Legolas met his gaze.

"Very well," Tulus finally conceded, though his stance remained tense. He stood aside to allow Legolas and Anastor precede him down the path to the forest edge.

Anastor rushed past him without hesitation.

Legolas followed him. "Thank you, Tulus," he said quietly as stepped past him.

Tulus only scowled.

* * *

"And Eirienil told me that she will not dance with me because she has already promised all the dances at the festival for Galithil's Begetting Day to Sixth Years..." Anastor was complaining as he leapt into the largest tree in the area that he and Legolas were assigned to 'guard' for the drill.

Just as he did, two sharp whistles sounded, signaling the beginning of the first round of the drill. They had barely made it to their assigned places in time!

"It is not a festival," Tulus corrected. The only reason he did not roll his eyes was because he was too busy scanning the surrounding trees. "Only a party."

Anastor made a scoffing noise. "Very well, she has already promised all the dances at Galithil's enormous party that the entire forest will attend that looks a great deal like a festival." He focused pointedly on Legolas. "Aewen is worse though. I heard that she has promised a good many dances to that Sixth Year she currently favors. And she promised to sit next to him at the feast." He covered his mouth with his hand in mock dismay. "Oh, I beg your pardon," he corrected himself dramatically. "It is not a feast. It is just a very large dinner that will feed nearly everyone living around the stronghold. But she will be sitting with that Sixth Year during it."

Legolas sighed. Whenever Eirienil did something new to reject Anastor, which happened every time he made even the subtlest of advances towards her, Anastor seemed to feel the need to console himself by regaling Legolas with stories of Aewen's newest male interest. As if Legolas could not see for himself who she favored. But, this was not the time or place to be focused on that, Legolas told himself sternly, refusing to allow Anastor to draw him into that conversation. Instead, he followed his guard's example and scanned the surrounding forest, the open plain and finally Anastor's tree. It was definitely the best choice of trees in the area. Tulus had already begun to climb into it.

"I swear, if Eirienil cannot at least save me a dance or two, I will stop courting her, just like you have stopped courting Aewen," Anastor declared, leaning against the tree trunk.

Legolas stifled a snort in response to that. Then he approached the tree to climb into it himself. He got within reach of it, but then he pulled back a step.

Since Tulus had mentioned that the forest seemed unsettled, Legolas had been focused on it. Tulus was right. Something was amiss. Further away from the forest edge, where they had been speaking before, Legolas could only feel the rumors of some sort of...fear and grief. The trees had obviously witnessed something unpleasant, and news of it was blowing on the breeze, but neither Legolas nor Tulus saw any signs of what it might have been. But here...in the open, at the forest edge...the trees no longer whispered. They were almost stunned, save this, older one. Legolas's gaze darted from Anastor, lazily sprawled against the tree trunk, to Tulus, who was straddling a branch slightly higher than Anastor's.

"What, Legolas" Tulus demanded in response to his charge's expression.

Legolas loosed a long breath and stared at the tree before gingerly placing his palm flat on its trunk. Raw grief and shock washed over him. He pulled his hand away and his gaze again swept over the forest behind him. He still saw nothing, but the trees in the area were as mournful as the trees in the southern part of the realm. Worse, when he touched this tree, it called out to him as the trees in the south did to his father.

"Tulus, something is very wrong here," Legolas said softly, still studying the surrounding area, but this time pausing to systematically search the crown every tree and the shadowed space between their trunks. His hand drew an arrow from his quiver as he did.

Tulus shifted and followed Legolas's gaze. "What do you see?" he whispered, also reaching for an arrow and nocking it against his bowstring.

"The enemies are supposed to come from the plain," Anastor intervened. In his peripheral vision, Legolas could see a finger pointing east.  
He ignored it. "I see nothing," he replied to Tulus. "But this tree! It has seen something terrible. Something evil." He glanced at Tulus. "Did any of the training program officers or border patrols mention to you that they actually cleared enemies from this area? Spiders maybe?" Spiders sometimes made it this far north before being discovered and they disturbed the trees greatly.

Tulus shook his head.

"There is something in the tall grass. Over there," Anastor interrupted again, still pointing east, but now waving his hand at something.

Legolas still ignored him. Anastor was undoubtedly seeing the Sixth Years. When they finally approached, Legolas would ask them to help determine what was wrong in this area.

"It looks like a package of some sort," Anastor continued. "Do you think it is part of the drill? Are we supposed to investigate it, do you think?"

That caused Legolas and Tulus both to look where Anastor was pointing. From his vantage point, Legolas saw nothing, but Tulus did lean forward in the tree, squinting at a tall patch of grass.

"And here come the Sixth Years," Anastor said, tensing slightly.

Legolas stepped in front of the tree for a better look at them. He hoped neither of them was Torthil or any of his friends. They were always so contrary. He doubted they would even listen to his concerns about the tension in the forest. When he finally saw the approaching elves, he frowned.

"Their tunics are blue! What was blue?" Anastor exclaimed in a panicked voice. "Black was enemies, green was elves, grey was dwarves and brown was men. I do not remember anything about blue. What was blue, Legolas?"

Legolas shook his head. "There was no blue," he answered without taking his gaze off the approaching elves. There were two of them, cantering towards them on horseback, wearing blue tunics. Dark blue.

"Do you think that they are supposed to be an unknown race? Like Hobbits? There was no color for Hobbits. Or maybe Wizards, like that Radagast or Mithrandir, who visit your adar? Do you think we are supposed to ask who they are?" Anastor spoke quickly and as he did, he hopped down to stand next to Legolas.

"I would prefer you both up here," Tulus said.

"Do you recognize them, Tulus?" Legolas asked and he found himself fingering the fletchings on the arrow in his hand. He took a deep, hopefully calming breath. These were still elves, after all.

"I do not. They are definitely not Sixth Years or part of this drill. I know all the scenarios. None of them involve elves dressed in blue or on horseback," Tulus replied.

"So they are truly foreign elves approaching the forest border then," Anastor concluded. "Wonder why they would be this far south of Esgaroth." He started forward to greet them.

"Anastor, wait..." Legolas and Tulus both called at once, but Anastor waved a hand at them without turning.

"Glilavan said I should take the lead, remember," he said with a smirk and he walked out of the shadows of the trees onto the plain. "Who are you and what is your business in the Woodland Realm," he called to the riders as they slowed their horses. "The road from Esgaroth-the Path through the forest-is half a day's travel north. Travelers are expected to stay on the path," he added. By the time he finished speaking, the riders were towering over him on their horses.

"Whatever this is, we should not let him sort it out alone," Legolas said over his shoulder to Tulus.

"Whatever this is, nothing about it feels right. Stay here and keep that arrow at hand," Tulus replied while descending swiftly from the tree.

Legolas drew a breath to protest. To remind Tulus that this was drill. A test of his judgment, not of his guard's. But then he shut his mouth without speaking. Tulus had already stated that these elves were not part of the exercise. That fact, combined with the increasing alarm he felt from the trees around him, meant that obeying his guard was the wisest judgment he could make.

"We are only travelers," the elves were responding as they hopped down off their horses. They both carried bows, still on their backs, and swords. "We are looking for someone in the forest."

"Whence do you come, what are your names and what are the names of the friends you seek?" Tulus demanded. He spoke in the commanding voice that Legolas rarely heard him use.

"Anastor Dannenion is one of the elves we seek," the nearest elf replied.

Anastor faced him with obvious confusion, looking him up and down as if doing so might help him recognize this unknown elf that had just called him by his full name.

Tulus froze in place and his hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

Legolas's brow furrowed. Whatever the meaning of this might be, those were elves, not men or dwarves.

"You are indeed Anastor Dannenion, then?" the elf asked.

Anastor nodded, still studying the elf with wide eyes.

Before Anastor-or Legolas-could even register what was happening, the elf that had spoken reached across Anastor, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him towards him while spinning him around. His spare hand drew a knife.

"Wha...?" was all Anastor managed before steel pressed against his neck, encouraging him to silence.

Tulus moved to intervene, but the second elf drew his own sword and blocked his path.

"Out of here and back to the camp. Now!" Tulus called to Legolas as he raised his sword.

Legolas shook himself to action in response to that command. He hesitated only momentarily, unwilling to abandon Anastor or Tulus, but his guard was right. Whatever business these elves...Elves!...had with Anastor, Legolas's presence only complicated matters exponentially. The best course of action-one that hopefully would prevent bloodshed-was to fetch the officers in the camp in order to put an end to this incident through threat of superior force. In fact...Legolas drew a breath to make the call of a screech owl, the signal the patrols used to announce the presence of danger. It would immediately draw all of his fellow First Years, Sixth Years, Glilavan and the other officers for certain, and if there were any of the Eastern Patrol in earshot, they would come as well.

Before he finished his breath, a twanging noise sounded from the shadows of the forest. Legolas automatically dodged closer to the nearest tree. In one swift motion, he nocked the arrow still in his hand, drew his bow and aimed in the direction of the noise. He had not yet found anything to target when Tulus loosed a pained cry. Legolas's gaze darted to him-his sword was dangling in his hand, his grip weakened by an arrow through his upper arm.

A tall, slender form emerged from amongst the trees. "Lower that bow, Legolas," a vaguely familiar voice commanded. "Or my next arrow will go through his chest."

Legolas struggled to suck in air. Demil!

"Get out of here, Legolas," Tulus called, his voice rough. The elf Tulus had been fighting was pulling his sword away from him. Tulus could offer little resistance. His uninjured hand was occupied with yanking the arrow from his arm, which he managed with a grunt. Then he pulled his knife.

"Everyone put down their weapons," Demil called again, "And, Legolas, do not even think of moving or making a sound, or I promise you Tulus will die first and then Anastor will. Lower your weapons, both of you, and no one need die today."

Legolas realized that he did indeed still have an arrow, on a fully drawn bowstring, aimed directly at Demil. His first instinct was to turn it away. But this was not any Elf. This was Demil, who, by his father's account, had willingly slain unarmed elleth and children in both Menegroth and Sirion. There was no reason to believe he would not make good the promise he just made and kill again-this time slaying Tulus and Anastor if Legolas obeyed his guard and ran. Legolas's heart began to race. This situation was deadly, but he was in a position-partially obscured by the tree, bow already drawn-to end it swiftly, if he had the courage.

"As bad as your adar, are you?" Demil taunted, when Legolas hesitated to lower his bow. "Well, consider this: You shoot me and my arrow will be released. Maybe it will hit Tulus, or maybe Tulus will be lucky and it will go wild. But I am not the only threat here. Are you fast enough to shoot two more elves before they slit Tulus and Anastor's throats?"

Legolas's gaze flicked to his guard and friend. The first elf still held a knife pressed to Anastor's throat. Blood already trickled down to Anastor's collar from the pressure of the blade. The second elf had not yet subdued Tulus, but they fought sword against knife. It was not a fight Tulus was likely to win. Even so, if Legolas surrendered, he was not so stupid as to believe Tulus would be allowed to live. Or that, ultimately, even he and Anastor would be allowed to live. At least not past their usefulness as bait to draw the King into whatever trap Demil and his associates were setting for him.

Every muscle in Legolas's body tensed at that thought.

The first course he and Galithil had taken in the training program was a course on surviving if taken prisoner. All the novice warriors took that course eventually, but Legolas and Galithil had received specialized instruction in it. Rule number one was: Do not get taken hostage. Thranduil himself had explained to them both, in mercilessly frank terms, that there were very few demands he would refuse if their lives were held in the balance. Then Hallion and Dolgailon had detailed-unnecessarily, since Legolas already understood it perfectly well-the impact it would have on the Woodland Realm if Thranduil were incapacitated by grief or threats. Legolas could not allow himself to be taken hostage. He had to end this.

Could he disable Demil and the other two elves fast enough to prevent Anastor and Tulus's deaths? Anastor's? Almost certainly not. A knife was already at his throat. Tulus's? Probably.

Legolas drew a breath and held it, as he always did while preparing to shoot. Then he looked at his target. He looked at Demil. His gaze flicked again to Anastor and Tulus, measuring the shots he must make next.

"Four elves? You will kill four elves today, Legolas?" Demil asked, his voice still taunting. "I say four because even if you do fancy yourself skilled enough shoot all three of us before I shoot you, you cannot think that you are fast enough to save your young friend Anastor. Are you willing to sacrifice him? To cut your losses? That is a bold move. Let us see if you have the stomach to watch him drown in his own blood. Go on. Release that arrow and let us see the skills that drove my lady to target you next. She says you are quite good with a bow."

A loud clanging sound made Legolas flinch and he glanced towards it. The elf fighting Tulus had just knocked the knife from his hands. Tulus backed swiftly out of range of his opponent's sword, reached for an arrow from his quiver and held it like a spear.

"No one dies today if you lower that bow, Legolas," Demil said softly.

Legolas looked back at him, sighting down the length of his arrow. Then he released the breath he was holding and lowered his bow. He could not do it. Even if he managed to disable all three of their attackers, he would watch Anastor die and that was something he could not do. There would surely be a better solution eventually.

"Wise decision," Demil said, stepping forward and turning his bow, still drawn, to fully target Legolas. "Now throw that bow, and the arrow too, into the forest as far as you can sling it."

Legolas obeyed.

"Stop, Tulus, or I will kill him here and now. You know I will not hesitate to do it."

Legolas was staring at Demil, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Tulus shift his stance enough to determine if the threat against Legolas was real. When he saw that it was, he straightened, dropped the arrow, and held his arms wide, hands open.

Legolas's full attention was drawn to Tulus when the elf behind him drew back his sword as if to run him through. Legolas tensed and called out a warning to his guard, but Tulus did not move. Legolas took a step towards him, reaching for his own sword, but when the elf reached Tulus, he only pushed him down with a vicious kick to the back of his knees.

"Stay exactly where you are, Legolas. And throw that sword and the knives on your belt and in your boot into the forest," Demil commanded.

Legolas did as he was told, watching while the elf that had fought Tulus held him in place with a boot on his back, ripped off his quiver and used its straps to bind his hands behind his back. Legolas could not hide his relief at that action. They would not take the time to restrain Tulus if they were going to kill him. After the elf efficiently bound and gagged Tulus, he moved to Anastor and repeated the process, removing and discarding his weapons, cutting his quiver from his back and binding his hands. Then he cut a sleeve off Anastor's tunic, tore it into two strips and used one to gag him and the other to bind his eyes. The elf that had held his knife at Anastor's throat pulled him to the horses. The other elf grabbed Tulus by the back of his collar and dragged him towards Demil.

Demil still had his arrow on Legolas.

Once Tulus lay at Demil's feet, the elf walked towards Legolas. Legolas did not move or resist as the elf stepped behind him, removed his quiver as he had Anastor's and roughly bound his hands behind his back. Once that was done, Demil lowered his bow and approached him, smiling.

The elf's knife knicked Legolas's arm as he cut off his sleeve.

"The smart thing to do, Legolas," Demil said, drawing his own knife and making a show of inspecting its intricately engraved blade, "would have been to take the advantage you had, since my bow was trained on Tulus, and pivot to shoot the enemy with the greatest advantage over you-the one holding your friend Anastor." His tone was like that of the training masters. "Always eliminate the strongest enemy first, if you can. If I had reacted logically, I would have been forced to attack you, rather than Tulus, before you turned back to me, so it would have been a contest between the two of us: who would be fastest to turn on the other. I would have had a slight advantage, since my arrow was already nocked, but I have heard you are a fast shot. You almost certainly could have gotten off an arrow at me before my shot hit you too. Tulus had a fighting chance against his opponent until you surrendered it. That would have been the tactically wisest solution to this situation."

Legolas remained silent. Demil was right. That would have been the best solution, but Legolas had not thought of it. He had little time to lament that error. Demil raised his knife and held it against the side of Legolas's neck, below his ear.

Legolas tensed. Somehow, the thought of his own, immediate death had not occurred to him yet.

Demil drew the knife, but Legolas barely felt it and when Demil stepped back he was laughing.

"I am not going to kill you, Legolas. I gave you my word. No one dies today because you surrendered peacefully. You can credit yourself with saving at least Tulus's life. I would have certainly killed that traitorous worm. But I will content myself with the fact that he can deliver news back to Thranduil that he allowed you to be captured. By me. Thranduil will kill him, so the end is the same. But you and your friend Anastor. No, you will not die today. There are still far too many uses to make of you."

Demil took the knife and drew it across Legolas's sleeveless arm. This time Legolas did wince away automatically. Demil cut him deeply enough that blood quickly soaked the sleeve of his undershirt and oozed down to his wrist and hand.

"I did not promise to leave you uninjured," Demil said. He dragged something soft across Legolas's arm, through the blood and then stepped back and held it up. It was a clump of now bloody, golden hair. Demil reached into his tunic with his free hand and pulled out a paper. It had writing on it. A letter, Legolas realized as Demil unfolded it, tucked the hair into it and refolded it. A letter to the King, no doubt.

Legolas might have saved Anastor's life, or Tulus's, but he had forfeited his father's if he could not get himself out of this and quickly.

The elf behind him shoved a bit of tunic sleeve into Legolas's mouth before he could clench his jaw. A strip of cloth swiftly followed, tightening across his mouth. Another was tied over his eyes.

A hand gripped Legolas's arm right over the cut. The gag stifled his involuntarily cry of surprise and pain.

"Take Tulus out of sight into the forest and secure him to a tree," Demil ordered, his voice inches from Legolas's ear as he pulled him away. "And pin this letter to him." Demil loosed a quiet laugh. "Use an arrow, if you like."

In the gap at the bottom of his blindfold, Legolas saw the letter and then an arrow with a silver shaft and blue fletchings pass between Demil and the other elf.

Then Legolas was pulled, stumbling sightlessly through the tall grass, towards the horses. They stopped briefly next to one-Legolas could smell it. There was a shuffling of elven feet and horse hooves as Demil mounted. Then Legolas was half pulled, half hoisted across the saddle in front of Demil like a sack of trade goods. He grunted as the air was knocked out of him.

"We ride," Demil ordered, and the horse leapt forward. Legolas was prevented from falling off it by Demil's rough grasp on his bound hands.

* * *

Thranduil lifted his wine goblet and focused intently on the swirling, red liquid and the bloom of flavor it delivered. He felt unsettled. Tense.

The family sitting room was silent and nearly empty. Galithil sat in one corner of it, a book in his lap. Thranduil had never, once, seen his nephew read for pleasure. Dolgailon sat near him. He was studying the tapestry hanging on the sitting room wall as if he had never noticed it, despite the fact that it had hung in that precise spot for Dolgailon's entire life.

At least his nephews were making a pretense of keeping Thranduil company. Celonhael herded his family straight to the Green immediately after dinner, observing that the evening meal had been sufficiently oppressive. Golwon made it as far as the sitting room, but excused himself, his wife and daughter before any of them had even poured themselves wine. Even Hallion claimed he had paperwork to attend to in the Great Hall. It would serve him right if Thranduil followed him there.

Lindomiel's absence he could forgive. She was distracting herself in her workshop, working on cloth that would be used for new cloaks for Legolas, Galithil and Berior this winter. Of course, it was only late summer, but Thranduil did not begrudge Lindomiel's need for distraction. Pity no one in his family respected his.

"Honestly, Thranduil," Engwe exclaimed. His voice sounded like a scolding jay. "If you were going to worry and fuss like this, why did you give Legolas permission to join the training program? He is under age. He must have your permission to participate. Simply withdraw it. And if you will not, at least have the courtesy to stew in solitude, so that the rest of us might enjoy our evening."

Thranduil turned his gaze from his wine to his uncle.

"There are many places you are free to remove yourself to, the better entertain yourself, Uncle Engwe," Galithil said before Thranduil could think of a sufficiently scathing reply. "You might be wise to seek the safety of one of them, rather than further interfering with the decisions the King makes regarding his own son's duties to the realm we all serve."

Engwe's back stiffened and his gaze flashed to Galithil. "I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner."

Dolgailon's expression hardened, glaring at Engwe, and he drew a breath to speak-whether to tell Galithil or, more likely, Engwe to be silent, Thranduil would never know, because Galithil did not hesitate to answer his uncle himself. "Yet you expect the King to tolerate the way you speak to him. He has every right to be worried about Legolas. What parent would not worry when their child goes on his first patrol? But the King has no right to refuse his son the training everyone else's children take, and you know that. If you cannot be supportive, be silent. If you cannot be silent, be gone."

Engwe stood, back even straighter than it had been while he was sitting. His chest puffed out in a threatening manner that was completely ruined by the fact that his mouth opened and closed, emitting only unintelligible puffing noises.

Galithil remained seated, scowling at him and shaking his head.

Thranduil could not deny that Galithil had managed to provide a highly entertaining distraction, better than any he might have imagined only moments before. Even if it was one that he could not allow to continue. "Galithil, mind your tone when speaking to your Uncle Engwe," he said quietly.

Engwe's puffing turned on Thranduil, obviously appalled at the mild correction.

"Yes, Uncle Thranduil," Galithil replied, not bothering to sound even slightly repentant.

Thranduil struggled not to laugh at that. "And you heed Galithil's warning," he said, facing Engwe. "I am in absolutely no mood for your bile tonight."

Engwe glared at Thranduil a long moment. "By your leave then," he said, deigning to offer Thranduil a bow before departing the sitting room without waiting for Thranduil's leave to do so.

No matter. Thranduil would have given it gladly. Of all the members of the family whose company he might wish for tonight, Engwe's was the least comforting, for obvious reasons.

"It is not even a patrol," Dolgailon said softly, as Thranduil watched Engwe stalk away. "It is a completely structured, scripted exam. The officers of the training program carefully planned who the First Years will meet along the border, where they will meet them, and how the encounters will play out. And you do know that everyone involved is elves, do you not? We clearly cannot enlist real Men or Dwarves-and certainly not Orcs-for this exercise."

"And do not forget that the Eastern patrol was informed that Legolas is at the border with the First Years, so they have tightened security there even more than they normally would for the Training Program's drills," Galithil added.

"This is indeed a very safe exercise, my lord," Dolgailon agreed. "Glilavan even told me that he intended to take part in the exam personally, since Legolas was in this group."

Thranduil's mood had been lightening in response to Dolgailon and Galithil's reassurances. Indeed, he had even begun to feel slightly foolish. Galithil had done this same drill last year, after all, and had come through it unscathed, earning fairly high praise for his reactions to some of the scenarios he faced. Legolas would certainly do the same. But Dolgailon's last statement returned the scowl to Thranduil's face.

"If you expected that Glilavan's presence would put my mind at ease, you were gravely mistaken," he said, looking at Dolgailon sidelong.

Both Dolgailon and Galithil fought to maintain respectful expressions.

Neither had the opportunity to reply before the outer door to the family quarters opened.

"Where is the King?" a breathless voice demanded of the guard at the door.

Thranduil frowned and stood, facing the sitting room door, as the guard instructed the new arrival to follow him. A warrior appeared at the threshold of the room. He was sweaty, disheveled, even still breathing hard. He glanced around the room, noticed Dolgailon and gave him a slight nod, but the moment his gaze fell on the King, he advanced towards him and began speaking without any courtesy what-so-ever.

"Glilavan is returning with the rest of the First and Sixth Years," he began. "But because he travels necessarily slower with all of them, my captain sent me ahead, to the stronghold, with this."

He shook a fist clenched around a piece of paper.

"We are not certain, exactly what happened," he continued, without offering the paper to the King. Thranduil eyed it, his breathing already coming with nearly as much difficulty as the warrior's. "Tulus did not wait to give us too many details before leaving. He did not want to take the time...he needed to catch up to them... He ordered us-my fellow warriors and I-not to come with him and my lieutenant agreed. Tulus said he would mark an easy trail to follow, but he did not want to attract too much attention to the pursuit...to do anything to scare anyone into...doing something stupid. But he made me promise to assure you right away that he had pursued them himself."

Galithil and Dolgailon were looking between the warrior, the paper in his hands and Thranduil with no effort to control their expressions.

"Get to the point, Boril," Dolgailon ordered, his tone sharp.

The warrior's gaze flashed towards him. "Sorry, my lord," he replied. "Someone took Legolas. And Anastor. I thought I understood Tulus to say that it was elves, but I must have been mistaken." He shook the paper in his fist again, still without surrendering it. "We found Tulus, tied to a tree, with this...this was...stuck to him. An arrow...stuck to him on an arrow...through his shoulder..." The warrior handed the crumpled note to Thranduil.

Thranduil took the paper. The back of it was facing him and it was badly bloodied. He quickly turned it over and pulled it open, unable to stifle a gasp in response to the contents of the letter-a strand of hair, obviously Legolas's, stiffened with dried blood. And the note itself. It simply said: Ava tinta orme ilfirin oresse!

The warrior retrieved a silver arrow with blue fletchings from his quiver. "Tulus told me to give you this also, my lord. It is the arrow that the note...the one from his shoulder. He said you would recognize it."

Thranduil did not take the arrow. Instead, he looked at the guard at the door. "Bring me Conuion," he whispered.

* * *

Ava tinta orme ilfirin oresse! - Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart.


	2. Your fear serves your enemy, never you

**Chapter 2: Your fear serves your enemy, never you**

"What tracks did you see in the area where Legolas was taken?" Conuion asked. He and his First Lieutenant, Tureden, along with the King's council, had listened to the warrior from the border relate the same story he originally told to Thranduil. Now they were hammering him for details.

Thranduil left them to it. There was nothing better to do until the horses were saddled. He glanced at his office door while grasping the edge of his desk in an effort to anchor himself and to not pace. Or charge out to the barnyard to hurry the stable master. How long did it take to saddle a few horses?

Lindomiel sat in Thranduil's chair behind the desk, clutching the bloody strand of Legolas's hair in her hand. She appeared wan and much more somber than normal, but was calmer than anyone else in the room. Or at least quieter. Thranduil suspected that she was not so much composed as stunned. She could not seem to stop staring at the letter and arrow that the warrior had delivered. Both were on the desk in front of her.

Galithil perched on the arm of her chair, with his arm around her shoulders, looking distinctly helpless.

Thranduil could not bear to look at them. Doing so only drove home how powerless he was to fix this. Immediately. Or even quickly, he thought with another glance at the door.

"There were three sets of tracks," the warrior answered. "The first were made by three elves that had approached from the First Year's camp. Legolas, Anastor and Tulus, obviously. The second was from one elf that approached from the south. Then there was a pair of horses that approached from the plain." The warrior looked down and fidgeted with the strap of his sword belt. "The tracks around the horses-the people that dismounted from them-did appear to be elves also, as Tulus suggested, and they were the ones that carried off Legolas and Anastor." He hesitated and looked at Conuion, but the captain of the King's Guard did not wait for him to struggle through whatever was making him fearful to speak.

"Where did these tracks lead, the ones that 'carried off' Legolas and Anastor?" Conuion asked. "Where were they taken?" His tone was taut. Thranduil snorted softly at that, taking grim satisfaction from the fact that he was not the only one present with strained patience.

The warrior looked back down, brow furrowed, but he stopped playing with the strap. "The horse tracks returned to the plain, traveling east and south, and the departing tracks seemed more heavily burdened than the arriving ones, so we believe that is good evidence that Legolas and Anastor were taken on those horses..."

"Did your captain send someone to follow those tracks? Someone to help Tulus, since he is injured?" Tureden asked.

The warrior shook his head. "Tulus asked that no one else follow the tracks onto the plain..."

Thranduil's gaze snapped to the warrior. Engwe and Golwon both loudly expressed their opinions of that news, while Dolgailon and Celonhael muttered more quietly, though still disapprovingly.

"Tulus asked what?" Conuion demanded, speaking over them all.

"That no one else go out onto the plain...follow the tracks onto the plain." The warrior looked quickly between Conuion, Tureden and the king. "Tulus said that he wanted to pursue Legolas and Anastor carefully. He said that he did not want to scare anyone into doing anything stupid...which was apparently wise... "

Thranduil continued to glare at the warrior when he paused. Tulus's reasoning made some sense, he supposed. Warriors were not trained in the same way the King's Guard was trained. But, even so, Tulus needed help if he was injured.

"And besides," the warrior continued, "there was not really anyone available to go with Tulus. We could not leave that part of the border wholly unguarded and Tulus wanted my captain and several warriors from the patrol to escort Glilavan and the First Years back to the stronghold."

Thranduil exchanged a glance with Conuion in response to that.

"He wanted an escort for Glilavan?" Conuion repeated.

The warrior nodded. "He told my captain to take him back to the stronghold and to make sure he made a full report to Lord Dolgailon. We assumed that Glilavan wanted to go along with his father to look for Legolas and Anastor. He has to feel responsible, after all. But Tulus did not want him to go. Apparently he thought it more important to get the details of the attack back to the stronghold. At any rate, Glilavan and Tulus were arguing."

Conuion whispered some orders to Tureden, who nodded and hurried from the room.

Thranduil turned to Dolgailon. "See to it that you get that report then," he said quietly.

Dogailon only nodded. Thranduil's council continued whispering as Conuion returned to questioning the warrior.

"Did you see any evidence to indicate anyone was injured?" he asked.

Thranduil ground his teeth together, trying to remain silent. He understood that Conuion needed this information to plan to what degree Legolas would be able to participate in any rescue attempt, once he was found. Still, Lindomiel was right here, her eyes now wide and openly fearful in anticipation of the answer.

"Well," the warrior started to fumble at the strap again. "Tulus was injured...

"Besides Tulus," Conuion demanded. "You have already described his injuries."

"There was also blood on the ground near the forest edge," the warrior continued and glanced at the bloody strand of hair that Lindomiel held. "We thought that blood was probably from... But we could not really determine what caused...I mean, we never found another arrow and there was no evidence of a fight in that area. It is possible..."

Conuion shook his hand, cutting the warrior off.

Thranduil was grateful for that. Lindomiel did not need to hear speculation. The facts were bad enough.

"That was the only sign of injury that we found, but..."

"Along those lines," Dolgailon interjected, "What of the rest of the First Years? And the Sixth Years? Are we certain they are all accounted for?"

Thranduil turned his full attention to that question. It was an important one and one that he should have thought to ask long ago.

The warrior tensed and looked at Dolgailon sidelong. "I have been trying to get to that," he said. "The First Years are all accounted for, other than Legolas and Anastor. But two of the Sixth Years...the two that would have approached Legolas and Anastor's position first...we found them dead. Bundled in their own cloaks and obscured in some tall grass on the plain. Their throats had been cut."

Thranduil closed his eyes. Those elves had already killed. In a very brutal way.

Next to him, Lindomiel could not stifle a quiet gasp and Thranduil reached for her hand. His heart twisted in his chest when she clutched the hand he offered in both of her own.

Dolgailon stared at the warrior, his jaw hanging open. "I thought the Eastern Patrol found no evidence of anything out of the ordinary where the training exercise was supposed to take place. How is it that two novices are dead and two missing?" he all but shouted.

The warrior straightened. "The Patrol found nothing, my lord. Not even signs. No spiders or orcs or poaching men. For the last weeks. That area should have been safe. How would we know to look for elves?" he continued in a whisper. "And even if we knew to look, how can you distinguish an elf that would do something like this from any other elf?"

Dolgailon let out a long breath, his anger deflating along with it. He did not try to answer that question.

That was the problem, Thranduil thought, his hands clenching into fists. Elves did not do such things and Manadhien and her followers, who had become little more than orcs long ago, depended on that sort of innocence. Lindomiel tried to pull her hand away and Thranduil realized he was crushing her fingers in his grip. He glanced at her apologetically.

The office door opened and Hallion rushed through it. "Your horse is ready, my lord. Galuauth is holding your sword and bow for you."

Thranduil nodded at him. He had listened to the cacophony of questions and answers for long enough. The time for gathering information was now over. He bent to speak quietly to Lindomiel, raising her hand to his lips as he did. "I will return with him," he promised.

"Alive, Thranduil. Both of you," she whispered, squeezing his hand before releasing it.

He nodded, but could not promise her that. Then he straightened and looked at Conuion.

Before he could interrupt his guard's new line of questions about the Sixth Years, Dannenion and Dolwon rushed into his office. Their eyes were wild with fear.

"Is it true?" Dannenion asked, all but pushing Hallion aside to approach Thranduil.

"Did something happen at the border? During the training exercise?" Dolwon added.

"Where is Anastor?"

"And Noruil?"

Thranduil regarded them narrowly. When he heard Anastor had disappeared along with Legolas, he wondered what part such a young elf, one who was still a child, could play in betraying his son. He had no doubt Dannenion was involved. Seeing Dannenion and Dolwon now... He remained silent, fearing that if he responded to them, he might do so with more than words.

Dolgailon stepped between them and the king. "Noruil is, for certain, on his way back to the stronghold with Glilavan and the other officers of the Training Program. I have confirmed that," he began.

Dolwon sagged forward, one hand over his face, the other stopping his descent to the floor by bracing against his knee. He released a relieved moan.

Dannenion reached for Dolgailon's arm. "What about Anastor?" he demanded as his grip twisted the fabric of Dolgailon's tunic. "We heard that some of the First Years were missing."

"You heard correctly," Dolgailon responded quietly. "Anastor and Legolas were taken by two, or possibly three, unknown elves."

Dannenion shook his head once as if refusing to believe it and he staggered back a step. "Elves?" he repeated, hoarsely. "Not orcs or men?" Then his gaze fell upon the arrow on the desk and his eyes widened. In two long strides he reached the desk and snatched up the arrow. "These elves?" he asked, voice high pitched, brandishing the arrow in his fist.

Conuion stepped forward, grabbing the arm that held the arrow. Galithil pulled Lindomiel out of the chair and stood in front of her.

"These elves took Anastor?" Dannenion asked, oblivious to the reactions he had caused. "Where? What are they demanding? Have they...is there a message?"

Thranduil studied Dannenion for a moment. Then he reached for the note the warrior had brought him and handed it to Dannenion. "Can you read Quenya?"

Dannenion glanced at the runes, obviously recognizing the handwriting and making no pretense otherwise. He shook his head. "What does she demand?" he whispered.

"Nothing," Thranduil answered. "It says, 'Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart.'"

Both Dannenion and Dolwon loosed another moan. They obviously had history with that phrase, just as Lindomiel did.

Dannenion staggered back until he was leaning against the meeting table. The arrow slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor; the note slid onto the table's surface as he grasped it for support. "Why take my son?" he whispered. "Why my son?"

"Is that not perfectly obvious?" Dolwon whispered back, his tone bitter. Accusing.

Dannenion stared at him in disbelief for a moment before pushing himself away from the table to lunge at Dolwon, hands closed into fists.

Dolgailon, Celonhael and, after a moment of stunned immobility, the warrior stepped forward to pull the two elves apart. Engwe simply ordered them to desist and everyone else in the room exclaimed in surprise or outrage at such behavior.

Thranduil shook his head in disgust. Given Dannenion's reaction to this news and Dolwon's last words, he found his guesses as to how they and Anastor were involved were changing. Still, he had no tolerance for either Dannenion or Dolwon at the moment. He stepped around them, heading towards the office door.

"Where are you going?" Dannenion demanded, following him with his gaze while shaking off Dolgailon's grasp. "Are you going after them? Do you know where they are?"

Thranduil did not slow his departure. "Yes, of course, I am going to retrieve my son and destroy whoever dared threaten him," he said.

That silenced the raucous arguments and discussions in the room.

"No, I do not know where they are," Thranduil continued into the silence. "But I know where they were when they were taken. Carried off on horseback, apparently. That should leave a clear trail across the open plain."

"The open plain?" Dannenion repeated, taking long strides after Thranduil. "She took them east onto the plain? Into the Northmen's territory? Then she intends to give them..."

Thranduil spun around and glared Dannenion into silence. But it was not enough.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!" Lindomiel whispered, understanding what Dannenion had been about to say.

"I am going with you," Dannenion declared.

"You are going no where," Thranduil replied. "Much less are you coming with me." He glanced at the warrior's still shocked expression and then stepped closer to Dannenion to avoid scandalizing the innocent even further. "I have no idea what part you have in this," he hissed into Dannenion's ear, "and I do not intend to find out while surrounded by you, your allies, and a group of Easterlings."

Dannenion gaped at him. "I have absolutely nothing to do with this, my lord. I swear it. I only want my son back, just as you."

"Then you will have to trust me to retrieve him along with Legolas. Your grief appears genuine, Dannenion. I will grant you that. But I am not willing to risk my life, and Legolas's, on that impression. You will not leave the capital. Understood?"

Dannenion stared at him in silence, mouth open, obviously debating what else to say. In the end, he only nodded and looked down.

Thranduil frowned at him. "See to that," he ordered, addressing Conuion. Then he turned and resumed his march out of his office.

Half the room followed after him.

"I am going with you, Uncle," Dolgailon said, coming up along side Thranduil as he walked.

Thranduil shook his head. "No, you are not." He turned to his other side, where Galithil had just flanked him. "And do not even think of suggesting that you should go. You are not a warrior yet and there is no possibility that I am risking you along with Legolas by taking you with me."

"He is my brother," Galithil protested. "We have been raised as brothers..."

Thranduil closed his eyes briefly and then stopped to focus on his nephew. "I know that, Galithil. I had a cousin, Ninglor, who was more of a brother to me than cousin. I watched him... I understand what you are feeling. But I cannot allow you to follow me when I have no idea what we will face. It is too dangerous and it will not help me, or your aunt, to lose you both. Please do not argue with me."

Galithil leaned forward, ready to argue further. Then his stance relaxed marginally. "Very well, Uncle," he conceded with clear reluctance.

Thranduil fixed him with a stern look. "Give me your word that you will stay here," he insisted.

Galithil nodded quickly. "You have it. I will stay here."

Thranduil managed a smile, patted his shoulder and turned to move away.

Dolgailon stepped in front of him, preventing him from continuing down the corridor. "I am a warrior, Uncle. A very experienced one. And Legolas is every bit as dear to me as he is to Galithil. I am going and you will not stop me."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Here is how I will stop you," he whispered, mindful of Lindomiel's proximity, "If Legolas and I are both killed, I need you here." He pointed at the mithril ring that Dolgailon wore, the one he inherited from his father. "If Legolas and I both die, you are Oropher's last remaining adult heir. This realm needs you here." With that, Thranduil stepped around him, this time making it to the door of the family quarters before being intercepted by Celonhael, Engwe, and Golwon.

"For the same reason that Dolgailon must stay, Hallion must," Celonhael said softly, his hand on the doorknob, preventing Thranduil from opening it. "For that same reason, we cannot all come with you, though we all would like to. But Thranduil, one of us is coming with you." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "None of us will allow you to face what you might face alone. Choose one of us to accompany you."

Thranduil scowled and drew a breath to order Celonhael aside. He did not want company. He wanted to lay hands on the elves that took his son. Nothing more.

"I will not allow you through this door alone, Thranduil. Choose one of us," Celonhael said calmly.

Thranduil raised his gaze from the doorknob, where his focus had narrowed in the interest of leaving swiftly, to look at Celonhael fully. "You will not allow..." he began, fury rising.

Celonhael did not flinch. He did not give a hair's breadth. He simply looked at Thranduil expectantly. And in that calm facade, Thranduil saw the uncle that had stood by him through three Ages of this world and countless tragedies-through losses at Menegroth and Sirion. And the Dagorlad. This incident, whether it result in tragedy or not, would be no different. He reined in his temper and drew a breath to concede. To invite Celonhael to come with him. Then he paused and looked back at his office door. Lindomiel stood framed in it, watching him leave.

Thranduil took a step closer to Celonhael and spoke quietly. "I would rather you be with Lindomiel, should bad news return before I do. Or should I fail to return myself. And I would want Dolgailon to have the benefit of my full council's experience, just as I did. You would be of greater comfort to me if you all stay here."

Celonhael considered him a long moment and then glanced from Golwon to Engwe. They nodded. Celonhael frowned, but bowed to Thranduil as he opened the door.

Thranduil charged through it. Conuion issued several terse orders to the guard at the door as he passed through it, hurrying after the king.

* * *

Legolas tried to focus. Was the horse slowing to a stop or was that his imagination? A full day and the better part of a night riding across the back of a horse that alternated between cantering and a full gallop had been more like a full day and night of a beating as the horse's whithers drove into his gut with each stride. He bit down on the gag in his mouth to prevent himself from groaning in relief-the horse danced a few steps in place and then stopped moving.

The hand that had held him in place throughout the ride now gave him a shove and he slid off the horse, grunting when his shoulder made sharp contact with the ground. There was no possibility that he could do anything to control his fall. Even breathing hurt and Legolas wondered if his ribs were broken or merely badly bruised. Not that it mattered. He was certain worse things were to come.

He tensed in response to that thought. Between being blindfolded and the struggle to breath, he had lost all sense of direction during the ride. Where were they? Where was Anastor? What did these elves intend to do next? What should he do to lessen the impact they could have on his father? How was he going to get himself, and Anastor, out of this? Especially now that he doubted his ability to stand, much less run or fight. His mind raced with questions nearly as quickly as his heart raced with...he was not even ashamed to admit it...with fear.

Your fear serves your enemy, never you. Every one of the training masters repeated that phrase during their various lessons.

Doing his best to ignore the sharp stab of pain it caused, Legolas forced himself to take a deep breath and then to follow that by normal, regular breaths. That helped a little. The smell of dirt and sweet grass filled his senses. As his captors began exchanging greetings with whoever they were meeting, Legolas took advantage of their neglect to appreciate the cool, soft, stationary ground beneath him. And to listen to the odd birds that called around him. He did not recognize them, but their presence helped to center him just the same. To fill the silence left by the absence of trees.

A thump followed by a groan meant Anastor had just been dumped next to him. Legolas tried to raise himself up enough on one shoulder so that he could turn to face Anastor. His efforts were rewarded by a boot on the small of his back, pressing him down again.

"Stay right where you are," a voice growled at him as he tilted his head back enough to glimpse Anastor from under the edge of the blindfold. His friend was breathing hard, his face contorted in pain as he rolled slowly onto his back.

"Have you seen him yet? Is he near?" Demil asked someone.

"No," another voice answered. This voice was not one of the two riders dressed in blue that had helped Demil. Legolas had heard enough conversations during the day's ride to recognize those voices. This was a new person.

"Did you have any trouble?" the person asked. Demil must have only shook his head, because next the voice said, "Good." Then a brief laugh. "And Tulus?"

Legolas held his breath. They had not discussed at any point on the ride how they had left Tulus. Having seen the arrow passed with the note, he did not trust that Tulus was still alive. Indeed, he spent most of the ride fearing that Tulus was dead.

The three elves laughed. "We sent him back to Thranduil with our note," one answered. "Not without a few injuries, but alive enough for Thranduil to finish him."

Legolas quietly released the breath he was holding. That, at least, was good news.

"You are sure he did not follow you? No one followed you?" The new voice was a little nervous and angry as it asked these questions.

"No, Fuilin, no one followed us," Demil answered. "I sent Lagril to double back on our own trail several times to be sure of it. All we have to do is keep ahead of whoever Thranduil sends after us once he gets word of this. But he is only hearing it now, at the earliest. It was a full day's travel back to the stronghold from where we took them. It will be another day before Thranduil makes it there to pick up our trail once he gets the news and another still before he follows our trail here. We are well ahead of him."

Legolas's mind began to race again with that information. He knew Tulus and his father well enough to know that these elves were very wrong in a good many of their assumptions. Tulus would make sure his father heard of this swiftly and he would come after him immediately, as long as he were capable of walking. He would not be far behind. And his father would leave the stronghold immediately, with all of his guards, and not stop riding until they found him.

But more important was the name Demil had just given. Fuilin! The new voice was Fuilin. Next to Manadhien, he was the conspirator that the king most wanted. If Legolas did not already have enough evidence to show that this was a very bad situation, that would have done it. But if he could somehow get enough control over this situation to help capture Demil and Fuilin...

"Good, let's stay ahead of him," Fuilin continued. A foot lightly kicked Legolas's calf. "How badly injured are they? I do not want their value diminished and neither does the lady."

"They are both unscathed," Demil answered. Then he laughed again. "I suppose the ride here might have been a little harder on them than it was on us."

"Hmph," Fuilin snorted. "Well, let's get them up. I want them presentable when he gets here. And that should not be long."

Before Legolas had even a moment to contemplate who 'he' might be or what Fuilin meant by his 'value,' a hand grabbed his collar and pulled him roughly to a seated position, causing him to groan involuntarily in pain. Anastor's muffled protests indicated he was receiving the same treatment. They were dragged back to back and propped up against one another. A moment later, Legolas heard Anastor make a spitting noise and suck in a few quick breathes through his mouth.

"Cowardly dog!" Anastor finally rasped. "When I..."

Legolas heard a sharp slap and Anastor fell back against him, gasping. Count on Anastor to never know when to keep his mouth shut. Indeed, Legolas wondered if whoever hit him had struck him unconscious in order to render him silent.

Something cold-the flat side of a knife-slid between Legolas's cheek and his gag. With a sharp twist, the gag fell free.

"Do you have anything smart to say to me?," Demil asked, his face right next to Legolas's. Legolas could feel Demil's breath on his ear as he spit out the gag and the wad of cloth they had stuck into his mouth. Legolas made no sound at all. He did not move.

"Too bad. I would enjoy making you shut up," he said, giving Legolas a slap across the face with his open hand.

Legolas winced as pain radiated along his cheekbone.

"Give it to him," Fuilin said, and Legolas heard another slapping noise, this one more like leather.

Something was shoved against his lips and cold began to soak his chin and tunic front. A waterskin, Legolas was stunned to realize. He quickly closed his mouth around its lip and sucked down as much water as he could, all the while half-choking. He did not care, even if coughing was excrutiating. The gag had left him completely parched. All too soon, the waterskin was pulled away and Anastor began spluttering as he struggled to drink.

A hand closed around Legolas's chin. "The elves your adar had escort me to Rhun gave me water," Demil said softly, speaking into his ear again. "And food. Enough so I would not starve. And they gave me a fine beating the times I tried to escape them." His fingers squeezed Legolas's jaw. "I hope you try to escape. I want to make sure you receive all the same treatment that I received on this journey. It was you that prompted your adar to send me to Rhun, after all. And your testimony about my bow that inspired him to do it. I have the right to avenge the wrongs done to me, you know."

Legolas kept his mouth shut. If Demil wanted an excuse to mistreat him, Legolas certainly did not intend to give him one. But given how absurd Demil's accusations were, he did not really need a provocation. If Legolas were responsible for anything related to the punishment his father had served on Demil, it was to prevent the king from executing him on the spot. If anyone had the right to be complaining about that decision at the moment...

Soft snickering closed in on Legolas from his other side. "It took us years to find and recover our brother." Fuilin said into his other ear. "Do you think your adar will demonstrate equal concern over you? Will he search for you as we searched for Demil? He will not. Quickly, he will give up and return to the forest to maintain his control over it. He will have to unless he wants to forfeit his realm to us entirely. You are about to make a significant contribution to our efforts to usurp your adar. But never fear, in a few years, we will hint to him what we did with you. Make sure it stays fresh in his mind. We would not want the loss-or the pain-to fade entirely."

The hand on Legolas's jaw released him with a shove. "Do not even think about moving," Demil growled. Then four sets of footsteps moved off to Legolas's right.

Anastor drew a breath.

"Be quiet," Legolas whispered to him sharply. Much to his amazement, Anastor did what he said. He remained quiet.

Legolas opened and closed his jaw a bit and moved his tongue around in his still too dry mouth. Fuilin and Demil were insane and they had no hope of usurping his father's rule, he told himself firmly. But still, what did they mean by the question of whether Thranduil would search for him? Did they not intend to lure his father here? Likely they did not, Legolas realized. No, what they wanted was for his father to suffer the loss of his entire family, as Demil said before he was exiled, so they had no plans to kill Thranduil yet. And if that were so-if Demil and Fuilin did not want him as bait for the king and they had captured him rather than simply killing him, what did they intend to do with him? A cold foreboding settled over Legolas like the black mists in the southern forest. What did Fuilin mean when he referred to his value and when he implied that they were waiting for someone?

'He' they had said, so it was not Manadhien that they awaited. It was also not the king or Tulus, since they thought them both far behind them. Possibly their remaining brother, Mauril? But Legolas could not imagine why he and Anastor needed to be 'presentable' for him. Or why being injured might reduce their 'value' to Mauril. Who else could they be valuable to other than Thranduil? A frightening possible answer to that question surfaced in his mind.

Legolas strained to listen to the whispered conversation Demil, Fuilin and the other two elves were having, to see if they would confirm his fears, but he could not hear them well enough to distinguish their words. It sounded like they were several dozen paces away. The horses were nearer. Legolas could hear them breathing heavily from the day's exertion and munching grass relatively nearby. If his suspicions were correct, an escape sooner rather than later was preferable. He tested the strap that bound his hands. It was still plenty tight and cut into his wrists as he tried to twist them. The motion made Anastor fumble first with his own bonds and then feel for Legolas's.

"Do you think we can untie each other?" Anastor whispered, turning his head in the opposite direction from the whispering voices of their captors.

"Probably," Legolas whispered back. "The problem is, they have bows and we do not. Even if we can get to those horses before them, they can just shoot us off them."

"They are elves, Legolas. They will not shoot us."

"One of those elves held a knife to your throat, Anastor. Demil shot Tulus. They will shoot us."

Anastor said nothing to that. Legolas turned his face forward again and thought. They needed a distraction of some sort. Something to draw away some of their captors or at least slow their reaction time.

"How do you know these elves, Legolas?" Anastor whispered as Legolas was trying think how he could possibly create a distraction. His voice trembled slightly.

Legolas hesitated, considering how to answer that question. Anastor knew nothing of Manadhien, her servants or Dannenion's association with them. "I know Demil and Fuilin, two of these elves, because they have been enemies of my adar for literally Ages of this world," he finally answered. "They, and the elleth they serve, have pursued both my adar and my daeradar Oropher since the First Age."

"You cannot be serious!" Anastor exclaimed, whispering so loud that Legolas winced, certain it would attract Fuilin's attention. But their captors' voices continued buzzing in the background.

"Shush," he replied. Then he decided to be more detailed. Anastor needed to know how important it was to curb his tongue. "Adar exiled them. For treason. For plotting to kill my naneth. They arranged for her and my aunt Amoneth to be taken by Dark Men. My adar stopped them, but not before two of our guards were killed. More recently, it was them that arranged the attack that killed my daeradar and daernaneth..."

"I thought they were killed by orcs," Anastor interrupted, his tone doubtful and panicked at the same time.

"No. By Demil and Fuilin's mistress. By an elleth named Manadhien. Adar caught Demil and questioned him about it. Demil admitted it and said their intention was to kill all of my adar's family one by one. You need to understand-these may be elves, but they have killed other elves before. Do you remember my adar telling you about the Noldor's attack on Menegroth and Sirion? The day he caught us playing with his long knife?"

"Yes."

"These elves were amongst the ones that participated in that attack. Demil admitted that to my adar. I heard him say it myself. They are not playing games with us. I am honestly astonished that they have not killed us already and the only reasons I can think of to explain why they have not...well, they are very bad. If you get a chance to escape, take it. Do not hesitate. But, be certain you can escape before you try, because they will kill you if they catch you trying. And do not, under any circumstances, do or say anything to antagonize or provoke them. Just obey them and be as respectful as you can while doing it. Understand?"

Legolas felt Anastor's back press against his as he took several long breaths, but he bumped heads with him as he nodded his agreement.

Legolas frowned. He did not like scaring Anastor. The day's events were certainly enough. But he had to know. The wrong behavior could end his life.

"So..." Anastor said after a moment. "If they want to kill you and your adar...what about me? Why me?"

Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. But they mean to do evil things. That is why I said do not hesitate to escape if you are sure you can."

"Why did the one elf call me by name, Legolas? How did he know me or know that I would be with you? I was not supposed to be."

Now Legolas had to make a conscious effort not to tense. Anastor would feel him do it since they were leaning on each other. "I do not know," he replied. Now did not seem like the time to tell Anastor that Dannenion once allied with these elves, especially since Legolas was not certain that was the reason Anastor had been taken. He suspected that, obviously. Just as he suspected that this attack was the reason for Glilavan's sudden change in assignments.

Anastor let out a long breath and sagged against Legolas a little more.

"Why you, Anastor Dannenion?" a harsh voice voice snarled from above them. It was Demil.

Legolas felt Anastor go rigid and he barely managed to remain sitting up when Anastor was pulled to his feet.

"To teach your traitorous adar a lesson, that is why," Demil continued.

Legolas felt Anastor's legs jostle against his back as Demil apparently shook him.

"Traitors are made to pay and you are the payment we extracted from your adar. Hope, for your sister's sake, that your adar learns quickly."

Legolas gasped in pain as he was pulled by his tunic front to his feet as well. "As for escape," Fuilin said, speaking into his face. "You are in no position to try. I would not recommend it. Lord Balchthor here sets a severe penalty on escape attempts."

A calloused, broad hand grasped Legolas around the throat and jaw and pulled him from Fuilin's grasp.

"You did not exaggerate the beauty of this one," a voice said in rough, strongly accented Westron. Hot, putrid air in his face was enough to make Legolas gag. Broken, jagged fingernails scratched his cheek as his blindfold was pulled loose. Legolas blinked to clear his vision and found himself staring into a swarthy face with a filthy black beard.

* * *

"Shhh. Shhh." Dannenion soothed, as he led the stomping horse from its stall in the warrior's stable. He produced an apple, stolen from the larder in the stronghold and thrust it under the horse's nose.

It snuffled at it a moment before chomping down on it.

"Good," Dannenion whispered, taking advantage of the horse's distraction to slip a headstall onto it. He buckled it quickly. "We are going for a nice gallop. You will like that," he said, jumping onto the horse's back.

It danced around a bit, but then trotted peacefully enough out the barn door and onto the path directly behind it.

Once Dannenion was out of sight of the stronghold, he turned the horse off the path and cut south eastwards across the forest, following no path. There was none to where he was going.

* * *

AN: I edited this to add a change to make it clearer that Thranduil does take guards with him when he goes after Legolas. I didn't mean to give that impression and I agree Conuion would never let that happen, but several reviewers here and elsewhere commented on it. Since it might make people anticipate the wrong sort of things, I thought I'd better change it, even though the chapter was already up and read by some. Sorry for the confusion and thanks for the help/concrit!

Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all the people who review, but who I can't reply to their reviews for whatever reason (they have PM disabled or they are unsigned reviews etc). I appreciate everyone who reads so much and I really appreciate all reviews. So thank you so much!


	3. Beyond your reach

**Chapter 3: Beyond your reach**

Lindomiel walked from the foot of her empty bed to her dresser and spun around to face the bed again. She made two long strides towards it, and came to a sudden stop, frowning. She had been reduced to pacing! That was a ridiculous habit she had picked up from Thranduil. Well, she was not having it. It was nothing more than a waste of energy. Worrying about Legolas and Thranduil served no one. There had to be some way that she could help them.

Her eyes wandered over the furniture in the room as she tried to determine what she could do, but her imagination kept flooding her mind with all the horrible things men would do...

She walked to the door of her chambers and pulled it open. She would go to her workshop. Maybe the repetitive action of the loom would calm her restless mind so she could think of something useful to do.

The guard outside the door pushed himself away from the wall and hurried to straighten up. "My lady?" he said as she swept by him without speaking.

Lindomiel nodded to him and he fell in place following her. She made it to the outer door of the family chambers, pulled it open and stepped through it before stumbling to a stop. All three of her looms had cloth on them that she was weaving for the children's winter cloaks. She might not need all three weaves if...

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears pricked at them and gave herself a little shake. Morbid thoughts also served no one. She continued to the end of the corridor and turned right instead instead of left towards her workshop, trying to think of something useful she could do.

"My lady, may I ask where you are going?" the guard asked after she had walked a good distance. Lindomiel stopped and faced him. It was Lanthir, one of the newest guards-one of several that Conuion had brought on to replace the guards killed along with... Lindomiel closed her eyes again. The ones killed the last time Manadhien, or Marti, or whatever her name was, attacked her family. When Lindomiel opened her eyes again and looked at Lanthir, he was staring at her with open concern.

She frowned slightly, composed herself and drew a breath to answer his question. 'I have no idea where I am going,' she almost replied before managing to stop herself. Indeed, she had to glance around herself in an effort to determine where in the stronghold she was. The corridor that housed the offices of the king's advisors, on the back side of the Great Hall, she quickly realized. Now where was she going? The kitchen or laundry? At least in one of those places she could be useful. She could contribute to something, even if it was only relieving the servants of some of their work.

Of course, both the kitchen and the laundry were in the completely opposite direction.

Perhaps she should go speak to Dannenion. Thranduil had not bothered to question him, and maybe he had information that might be useful. It was well after midnight, but Lindomiel doubted his family was sleeping any better than she was. There was no harm in walking down the path to his cottage, to see if there were any lights on in it.

As she was contemplating that idea, she heard the door that led into the public parts of the stronghold open.

"Even in the king's absence, running through the family quarter's, especially at this hour, is prohibited," the guard at that door declared.

Running steps whispered in the corridor none-the-less. Lindomiel strode quickly back in the direction whence she had come, to intersect whoever might be making them, Lanthir on her heals.

Maidhien nearly collided with her at the inter-section of the two corridors.

"I beg your..." Maidhien began, breathlessly, but when she realized who she had run into, she grasped Lindomiel's hands. "I was coming to find you... or Galithil... or Dolgailon, I do not know who would be best..." she panted.

Lindomiel squeezed her hands and bent down slightly to hold her gaze. "You have found me, my dear, now tell me what is wrong? What are you doing wondering alone at this hour, especially given all that has happened..."

"Adar left," Maidhien interrupted. "He stole a horse and he left. To look for Anastor himself. Nana would not let me come to tell you, but she finally fell asleep... Adar said if the king did not want help finding Legolas, he was at least going to find Anastor. Nana seemed to think Adar knew where to look, or at least that is the impression I had from the way she was talking... If he knows where to look..." Maidhien left that statement unfinished, looking at Lindomiel with wide eyes.

Lindomiel nodded and still holding Maidhien's hand, turned to Lanthir. "We will wait for you by the Gates. Go get Tureden."

The guard hesitated for a moment. "You promise you will wait, my lady?" he asked softly.

Lindomiel scowled, but nodded, so Lanthir hurried down the corridor.

* * *

"There is a horse missing from the stable," Ferinil reported, striding through the open door of Dannenion's cottage without knocking. "I cannot follow it. Too many horses left the stable tonight to distinguish individual tracks."

"Dolwon apparently did not go with Dannenion," Heledir declared from slightly behind Ferinil. He towed Dolwon, who was grousing loudly, along side him. Noruil and his mother, Lalfien, hurried after them.

"Not stupid enough to do that," Dolwon muttered. "I do not want my family to be next."

He shook off Heledir's grasp once he was thrust through the cottage door, scowled at Dannenion's wife, Eregeth, huddled at the dining table and turned to look for whoever it was that Thranduil's guards were reporting to. His brows rose dramatically.

"Where did Dannenion go, Dolwon?" Lindomiel asked softly. She sat on the hearth. Hallion and Dolgailon stood on either side of her. Galithil, his arm around Maidhien, stood next to his brother. Tureden flanked Hallion.

Dolwon made a face. "I have no idea," he replied quickly.

"Liar!" Maidhien said.

"Answer her," Dolgailon demanded at the same moment.

"Neither he nor you are in any trouble," Lindomiel intervened and ignored Hallion's quiet cough. "But if Dannenion or you have any idea where Marti took Legolas and Anastor, I simply want to know that myself. Eregeth mentioned that there was some where on the plain that Marti used to meet with enemies of this realm, but she does not know its location. Do you know where it is?"

Dolwon shot a glare at Eregeth and then raised his chin and pressed his lips together.

Dolgailon took a step forward, pointing between Dolwon, Eregeth and Lalfien. "If any of you have any idea where Legolas might be and you do not tell us...as you did not tell the king earlier..."

"The king was hardly listening to anything we might have had to say," Dolwon said, cutting off Dolgailon's threat. "He ordered Dannenion to abandon his son and left without another word."

"He left to retrieve Legolas and Anastor," Dolgailon shot back, and he intended to say more, but Lindomiel arose and took two steps to stand between Dolgailon and Dolwon.

"If you tell me where Dannenion went, I will send someone to help him, not to arrest him," Lindomiel said, looking at Dolwon evenly.

Dolwon scowled at her.

"At least three elves took Legolas and Anastor," Lindomiel continued. "If Dannenion finds them, he will need help to rescue them. He will need help if both he and they are to escape uninjured."

Dolwon looked down in response to that.

"And you refused to go with him," Eregeth interrupted. "You refused to help him. If you know how to get to that place where Manadhien used to meet men, please tell us where it is. I do not want to lose my husband and my son to her. Please Dolwon!" she pleaded tearfully.

"If you are worried about your own family's safety," Lindomiel added, "I will do anything within my authority to keep you safe, starting with not disclosing to anyone outside this room that you told us how to find this place."

Dolwon ground his teeth together and stared at the floor for several long moments, but finally faced Lindomiel. "You know, of course, where Maethorness's village lies? Just above the mountains on the eastern border?"

Lindomiel nodded.

"Follow the forest edge further south for an hour, riding fast, and you will see a trail that heads east. Across the Celduin, on the far bank of the river, the trail continues east, straight to an old mannish settlement. That is where I have heard she met with men in the past."

Behind her, Tureden began to issue orders to the Guard, calling for horses, weapons and naming those he would send.

"Thank you, Dolwon," Lindomiel said. "You and your family may go home and try to rest, if you wish." She ignored Dolgailon's surprised exclamation and turned instead to Maidhien. "Maidhien, since Dannenion is not here and since Anastor has already been attacked, I would feel much more comfortable if you and your naneth would both stay in the stronghold, where no one can touch you." She glanced back at Dolwon. "You are welcome to stay also, since I gather you fear Marti will target you next. I confess that is a legitimate fear. Or I can ask Tureden or Dollion to assign guards or warriors to help protect your family. The decision is yours, of course."

"I want to stay in the stronghold," Eregeth answered immediately. Maidhien nodded.

Lindomiel turned to Galithil. "Can you take them to Galion and ask him to accommodate them?"

Galithil nodded and began to lead Maidhien away, his arm still about her shoulders. Meanwhile, Lalfien had grasped her husband's sleeve and was looking at him with wide eyes. They exchanged several sharp, whispered words and then Dolwon turned tensely back to Lindomiel. "We would like to accept your offer as well," he said stiffly.

Lindomiel looked again at Galithil and he nodded, holding out his other arm to herd them all out of Dannenion's cottage.

"My lady, I am not certain that the king will agree that they should be free after Dannenion disobeyed his order to stay here. Much less should they be free to wander the stronghold," Dolgailon whispered in her ear as they left.

"Dannenion disobeyed the king, not the others in his family. Maidhien reported her father's disobedience. She is your brother's betrothed wife and she helps me manage the stronghold," Lindomiel replied. "She has long been free to go where ever she likes in it. Since her brother is already a victim, I think we should insist she remain with us until we are certain that this threat is contained. And if she stays, how can we deny her mother equal treatment? Or her uncle, aunt and cousin?" She shook her head. "Thranduil is very single minded when his family is endangered, but that is not always wise," she concluded.

Dolgailon raised his eyebrows. "Given that you and Maidhien managed to find out where Legolas might have been taken, I cannot disagree with that assessment, my lady, but as the king observed, we do not know to what extent Dannenion or Dolwon might be involved in this."

"All the more reason to keep a close eye on them then. Tureden will manage them," she said, turning to face the lieutenant of the Guard. He was dismissing Ferinil and Heledir. They jogged off in the direction of the barn. Lindomiel frowned. "You are sending them to look for this meeting place?" she asked him, gesturing after the two guards.

"Yes, my lady," he said, and he stepped aside so that she could pass through the cottage door.

She did not move. She only looked after the two guards. "Who else are you sending with them?" she asked.

Tureden raised an eyebrow slightly and looked over her shoulder at Dolgailon and Hallion before answering. "Lanthir, my lady, once he delivers you back to the stronghold." Lanthir was indeed waiting for her outside the cottage door.

"Ferinil, Heledir and Lanthir will not recognize Manadhien or Fuilin and his brothers," she observed. "They only joined the Guard recently."

Tureden nodded. "But, they will recognize Legolas and Anastor well enough if they see them," he responded, now gesturing for her to exit the cottage.

She still did not move. "Do you not think it is important to send someone who might recognize Manadhien and her servants. If we could find one of them in the area near this path, we might find where Legolas and Anastor were taken faster."

"Unfortunately, my lady, Colloth and I are the only guards left in the stronghold that would recognize Manadhien or anyone associated with her. Belloth and Pendurion went with Conuion and the king. Tulus is, apparently, already searching for Legolas. None of the rest of our numbers have served in the Guard long enough to have met her. And I am very hesitant to send Colloth and separate Galithil from his regular guard, given that the children are being targeted."

Lindomiel frowned. She understood why Tureden could not go. Conuion would have his neck for leaving the security of the stronghold managed by guards with less experience in that duty than Legolas had as a warrior. And she agreed Colloth should stay with Galithil, if for no other reason than to keep him from following after Thranduil. Still, it seemed absolutely basic common sense that someone go with them that could recognize the people they were hunting. She turned to Dolgailon. "Who could you send with them that would recognize Manadhien?"

Dolgailon was obviously already considering that question. She could see him running through people in his mind as his eyes gazed into the distance. After a moment, he shook his head. "The only warrior in the capital that I am certain would recognize her is Dollion, but Conuion sent him to meet with Morillion to escort Glilavan home. He has already left. Langon and Tirithion would recognize her, but they went to the border to supervise the training exercise with Glilavan, so they are too far away to wait for." He glanced at Hallion. "Members of the King's council. I can think of no one else, other than Dolwon, of course, and we are not sending him."

"I could possibly spare Celonhael or Golwon, my lady," Hallion said, "but the king did specifically ask them to stay here."

"That was before he knew the location of this meeting place," Lindomiel replied. "Send Celonhael. He will handle it best if he recognizes one of them. He has the coolest head."

Hallion bowed. "As you wish, my lady."

* * *

Before Legolas could fully take in the sight of the man before him, Balchthor forced his face from side to side with a hand still wrapped around his jaw and throat. Then the man's grip slid down to the front of Legolas's tunic while his other hand ran over Legolas's arms and chest and back, as if inspecting the conformation of a horse. Revulsion washed over Legolas at the contact and he involuntarily pulled away. The man twisted Legolas's tunic, tightening his grip and pulling Legolas to stand nose to nose with him.

"Disobedience will be swiftly and definitively curbed. You have received your only warning. Do you understand me?"

Legolas stared at the man, unable to conceal his contempt. His immediate reaction, his gut response, was to spit in the man's face.

Of course, Legolas knew perfectly well that if he did that, the man would likely beat him within a hair's breadth of death and, with his hands bound securely behind his back, there was not a thing Legolas could do to defend himself. More importantly, afterwards, he would be in even less of a position to escape, and, given the man's presence, it was even more necessary for him to do so. He looked down and took a deep breath, struggling, much more than usual, to control his expression.

The man shook him hard enough to make his head snap back. "Do you understand me?" he repeated, now yelling. "Do you speak the Common Tongue boy? Answer me!"

"Yes," Legolas replied, managing to keep his tone passably respectful. "I speak it and I understand."

Demil, Fuilin and the two elves with them laughed. "Not as stupid as his father, then," Fuilin said under his breath in Sindarin. "Pity."

Legolas kept his gaze fixed straight forward, refusing to rise to that bait.

Balchthor pushed Legolas back towards Demil and Fuilin and reached for Anastor. Legolas tensed as Demil and Fuilin took firm hold of his arms and passed Anastor to the man. There was no possibility Anastor would remain silent. In fact, it was very likely Anastor would make his attitude unmistakably clear.

As Balchthor pulled Anastor forward, Anastor only grunted quietly, stumbling somewhat after spending the day slung over a horse. He made an unintelligible noise in protest when the man turned his head side to side.

Legolas looked at Fuilin and Demil and considered whispering to them to tell Anastor to be quiet, but he knew that would be a waste of effort. His concern would probably only amuse them further.

When the man's hands began to run over him, Anastor, predictably, did not hold his tongue. "What is this!" he exclaimed, twisting away from the hand touching him. "Take your hands off me!" he demanded.

Legolas drew a breath to tell him to be still.

The man yanked off Anastor's blindfold to force him to look at him and the sight of the strange face had the desired effect. Anastor's eyes flew open wide and he gasped out loud before falling completely silent to stare at the man with open shock and fear.

"Did you not listen to what I told your friend?" Balchthor asked softly, while drawing back his hand.

"He does not speak the Common Tongue," Legolas intervened, trying to step forward.

The man stopped and glared at Anastor a moment. Then he pushed him hard, sending him staggering to the ground at Demil's feet. He faced Legolas, hand still raised, and walked over until he was standing directly in front of him. In a swift motion, he reached with his raised hand, grabbed Legolas by the back of the neck and turned him to stand over Anastor. "You explain it to him then, and mind what you say. They," he jerked his chin at the elves, "will tell me if you say something I would not like."

Legolas locked eyes with Anastor, who was staring up at him in disbelief. "Simply do not resist, Anastor. It will do neither of us any good. Remember what I said about being obedient and respectful."

Anastor looked up at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Does he understand?" Balchthor asked, his grip tightening on Legolas's neck.

"He understands," Legolas replied, in Sindarin, willing Anastor to wipe any defiance from his face.

The man jerked Legolas back, flush against his body, shifted his hand to grip his throat and asked, "What did you say?"

"He understands," Legolas repeated, this time in Westron. He stifled a gasp when the man pushed him down next to Anastor.

"I never want to hear that Elvish gibberish again," Balchthor said, towering over them. Then he turned and walked back to Fuilin. "The fair one," he said. "He is the Elvenking's son, you said?"

Legolas froze at that question.

"His firstborn and currently only son," Fuilin confirmed, sounding like a merchant hawking his wares. "And the other is the firstborn of one of Thranduil's nobles. A member of his council."

"Do not resist, Legolas?" Anastor whispered incredulously, interrupting Legolas's focus on the man's conversation.

"How do you plan on escaping if that man breaks your skull while beating obedience out of you?" Legolas whispered back. "Be quiet. He said he does not want us speaking. Even men could hear us from this distance." And Legolas wanted to hear them-to hear what they might say about his father.

"They are talking to each other, not listening to us," Anastor retorted. He looked over Legolas's shoulder. "What are they talking about? The man has a sack." His eyebrows went up. "Of coins, it looks like. Gold ones. Lots of them."

Legolas did not turn to look. "They are negotiating the price the man is going to pay for us," he replied and watched as Anastor's jaw dropped. "It will be a fairly high price, given that the man knows who I am. And you, my lord," Legolas looked at him derisively, "are apparently the son of one of my adar's advisors."

Anastor frowned. "Well, I am the son of a member of your adar's court. And my adar was a lord of the Silvan before your adar even knew of the forest's existence."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Well, do you want me to go emphasize that to the man? We want to make sure Fuilin gets the best price for us as possible, after all." He glared at Anastor.

Anastor shook his head. "Price?" obviously finally catching on to the important facts. "Legolas, they...those elves...they are...they cannot...you do not truly believe that they will allow the man to take us with him." His voice was undeniably tinged with fear.

"Yes, Anastor. That is precisely what is going to happen."

"Because the man thinks your adar will pay even more to get us back?"

Legolas looked at the green grass. "If we are very lucky, that is the man's expectation," he replied.

Anastor shook his head. "What else could he hope to do with us?"

Legolas looked back at him. "Men keep slaves, Anastor," he said softly.

Abject fear flashed in Anastor's eyes. Then his brow knit and drew himself up as much as his bound hands and sore ribs permitted. "I am no one's slave!" he declared in a normal tone of voice. "Much less a man's!"

Legolas frowned and looked back at the elves and man. "We have a much better chance of escaping one man then we do four elves," he whispered. "Especially if that man is not inspired to beat the life out of us. Try to be compliant, Anastor. At least try not to intentionally provoke him."

Anastor looked over Legolas's shoulder and eyed the man, but he remained silent. Legolas could still see fear in the recesses of his eyes.

"These are not ordinary slaves, Balchthor," Fuilin raised his voice to argue.

Legolas closed his eyes. He had not really held out any hope that Anastor's suggestion that the man intended to ransom them back to his father might be correct, but that did not make hearing the truth any easier.

"They are elves," Fuilin continued. "They are young. Strong. Able to work harder than a dozen men. They will never sicken. Or age. Or even die. Your grandson's grandsons will take pride to be the master of the Elvenking's son. I will take no less than a hundred coins each for them," Fuilin argued.

"Grandson's grandsons. Not likely," Legolas whispered through a clenched jaw. Ignoring Anastor's confused look, he glanced behind him. Fuilin and the other elves were focused on the man's sack of coins. Legolas lifted his gaze and looked around himself. They were in the ruins of a Mannish settlement, it appeared. Stumps that must have once formed a solid stockade surrounded him, standing at various heights or missing altogether. A few buildings, or at least a wall or two of them, still teetered along the stockade. The embers of a fire smoldered outside the most solid looking building. That must be where Fuilin had waited to meet them. Legolas looked beyond the stumps, turning to look in all directions. His heart skipped several beats when he found not even a glimpse of trees on the horizon. They were very far away from the forest indeed. The sun was just beginning to glow to his left. Legolas turned to his right. Somewhere in that direction lay the forest. Legolas could make out where the horses they rode to the settlement had scarred the earth with their hooves. Their trail led northwest. He frowned. There was another, more worn path as well, going directly westward. Where did it intersect the forest?

The man hurled the entire sack of coins at Fuilin, striking him in the chest. Fuilin handed the sack to Demil, who quickly carried it over near the fire and opened it, counting coins. Legolas's fists clenched. Then Balchthor strode over to a horse-a tall black stallion. Its tack jingled as it danced away from the man's approach. He grabbed its reins and reached for something hanging from its saddle. Rope.

Legolas's pulse quickened.

Next to him, Anastor sucked in a ragged breath. "I do not think I can ride slung over a horse again," he whispered.

Legolas agreed with that.

Fuilin and the two other elves walked to them. Fuilin pulled Legolas up and one of the other elves did the same with Anastor.

"You fetched a fine price. I will make certain your adar learns your worth, Legolas," Fuilin said, smiling at his little joke. "Eventually. In a few years, when he has convinced himself that you are dead, I may even send Thranduil one of these coins, to let him know your true fate." Fuilin tossed a gold coin in the air. It was marked with a closed fist. Legolas had never seen such a coin. "But I will give you something to look forward to in the meantime: once your adar has recovered from your loss, to the extent that he can, look for Galithil. He will be joining you soon enough."

Legolas glared at him a drew a breath.

"Hold them," the man ordered, before Legolas could speak. Fuilin's grasp on his arm tightened.

The man stepped behind him. Legolas heard a knife slide from its sheath and then his hands fell free. Immediately, they began to sting from returning blood flow. Legolas automatically went to shake them, but the man seized a wrist and tied the rope he had retrieved around it while pulling it forward. Then he grabbed the other wrist and wrapped rope around it as well, tying them together. Legolas frowned. The man had tied his hands in front of him. That appeared to be a remarkably fortunate advantage. One he did not understand. It set him immediately on edge.

The man tucked the remainder of that length of rope under his arm and used another length to tie Anastor's hands in the same way. Once that was done, he walked back towards his horse without a word, letting both lengths of rope run out as he did. When he reached the end of the rope, he did not stop. He simply pulled Legolas and Anastor along after him like he might pull his horse by its reins.

Fuilin and the other elves snorted as Legolas and Anastor stumbled after him.

Legolas figured out what was happening when the man tied the free ends of the rope to the horn of his saddle.

Anastor turned to face him. "He does not intend for us run after him on his horse?"

The man spurred his horse and it leapt forward.

Legolas drew a long, slow breath as the rope tugged him forward. Pain stabbed like a knife in his side as the very first stride jarred his injured ribs. He had two choices-run or be dragged.

* * *

Dannenion slowed his horse as the rotting posts of the old stockade came into view. The sun was setting behind him, but the ruined buildings inside the encampment were still well illuminated. And he saw horses. Someone was definitely there. He spotted movement in the shadows of the largest building.

"Fuilin, are you there?" he called in a clear voice.

He did not approach the camp any closer, nor did he come around to the side where the stockade walls were the most rotten. The elves that occasionally dwelt in this abandoned mannish settlement were jumpy, even when anticipating the arrival of friends. Given that Dannenion was here to retrieve his son, he harbored no doubts that he fell into the 'enemy' category at this point. His bow, and an arrow, were ready in his hand.

"I am," Fuilin called, not moving from the shadows and not saying anything more.

Dannenion's hand clenched around his bow. "Where is my son, Fuilin?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. He saw no signs of any captives. He felt he might be sick at that realization. Fuilin had already given them to men. Or worst, had killed them. Dannenion immediately shut that thought out of his brain.

"Beyond your reach," Fuilin answered. "Which is nothing more than what you deserve for your betrayal."

Dannenion heard the creak of bending wood.

"But for the further betrayal of leading Thranduil here, you will pay a higher, more personal price."

Dannenion had already crouched lower on his horse and began to turn it away when three bows twanged. He kicked his horse hard, causing it to leap forward. Arrows whooshed past him, one slicing the back of his tunic like a knife. Bows bent again. Dannenion raised his and drew, loosing a wild shot into the shadows of the dwelling. Then he fired off two more-one severing the line that secured the now dancing horses outside the encampment, the other driving into the ground at their hooves. The horses reared up and fled, running full speed, westward, onto the plain. Dannenion heard shouts and then glimpsed the forms of two elves chasing after them, but he urged his horse in the opposite direction and did not look back.

He rode, pressed down against the horse's neck, until the poor animal, already exhausted from a full night and day's gallop through the forest and across the plain, began to stumble. Then he allowed it to slow to a walk and turned, bow drawn in case he was still pursued. He saw no one behind him.

"We will stop here," he whispered into the horse's ear. He shook his head and laughed bitterly as he jumped down from its back. If he saw no one, he did not need to whisper, he chided himself. Still, he left an arrow nocked against his bow string as he gazed, first westward and then eastward, trying to decide what to do. He could not believe that Fuilin and whoever was with him-his brothers, no doubt-had actually shot at him! They had tried to kill him! All because he had stopped sending Manadhien information after she had killed Amglaur and Limmiel. She killed them! How did she expect him to react! She and her servants were every bit as evil as men. As orcs! Then his blood ran cold. What had they done to Anastor? What did 'out of reach' mean? Dead? Given to Men?

Dannenion took a deep breath. If they meant to kill Anastor, his body would have been found where the training exercise had taken place. Since it was not, they sold him to Men. Anastor had been given to Men, he repeated to himself, trying to convince himself it was true. He only had to find him.

How would he do that? He looked about himself, uncomfortably exposed in the tall grass. He had fled the settlement almost directly eastward. Surely eastward was where the men would take their prisoners. Men lived in the east. And south. He grasped the horse's headstall and began walking, southeast, searching the ground for any signs of a trail as he did.

Stars were beginning to sparkle above him when he finally spotted a hoof print in the soft earth just ahead of him. He ran to it and knelt on the ground. It was fresh-the disturbed earth around it only beginning to settle. Someone had been this way recently. From the spacing of the prints, it had been only one horse, cantering. He bent over another print. From its depth, the horse only carried one rider. What did that mean? Was this the wrong trail? Did the man decide not to buy the elves? Did Fuilin kill them since he was unable to sell them? Then Dannenion saw a large patch of crushed grass a few paces head of him. He jogged over to it. Something had been dragged here. He followed the drag marks to their end. There he saw what might have been a hand print, several scrabbling impressions in the earth and-if he bent carefully over the ground-two sets of light footprints. Elves' footprints! Anastor! And Legolas. Dannenion's hands clenched into fists. He understood what this meant. What his child was being made to do. He hefted his bow and followed the tracks, now striding swiftly.

* * *

Dannenion drew a long breath and jogged quickly past another strip of flattened grass. This one was longer than any other he had seen thus far. And closer to the last one. The moon had completed half its path in the sky since he had started tracking his son and this man on horseback. He had been moving as quickly as he could without missing anything important and he was growing tired. Almost out of breath. His pace was much slower than the one Anastor had been forced to match. He wasn't following a cantering horse.

Dannenion stopped. Something brownish stained the dust. He stuck his finger into it and confirmed what he feared. Blood. His hand clenched into a fist. This man would pay for whatever injury had been done to his son. He would pay dearly. Then he would die. Dannenion ran on, trying to increase his pace.

Focused forward on the tracks he was following and the distance they stretched in front of him, Dannenion was completely unprepared when an arrow buried itself into the ground no more than five strides in front of him. He loosed his hold on his horse's reins and fell flat on the ground as it danced away. He faced the direction the arrow came from, drew his bow and searched for a target to return the attack. He froze when he saw Tulus, bow drawn again and aimed directly at him. Dannenion did not relax his draw.

"What is your purpose here, Dannenion?" Tulus demanded.

Dannenion involuntarily made a face. He hated it when Tulus tried to sound commanding. "What do you think? I am here to retrieve my son from whomever Fuilin has sold him to." He frowned at Tulus. He arm was shaking. "Lower your bow, you fool. Before you kill me."

Tulus did not lower his bow. Instead he studied Dannenion for a long moment and then looked past him, westward. "Where is the king? Or his guards?" he asked as he turned his grip on the bow slightly in an effort to ease the strain on his bow arm.

Dannenion lowered his own bow to try to convince Tulus to lower his. "A day behind me, I imagine. They would have had to go to the border and then follow the tracks to the settlement. I simply went straight to the settlement. Fuilin shot at me there. Are you going to finish the job for him?"

Tulus glared at him a moment longer and relaxed his draw, grimacing openly as he did. But he did not lower his bow or unnock his arrow. "Why is the king a day behind you? Why did you not lead him to the settlement if you knew they were there?"

Dannenion loosed an annoyed laugh. "Thranduil suspects me. He would not hear of me coming with him. But if he thought I was going to leave him to go after Anastor alone, he is more mad than I ever thought. And as for finding them in the settlement, I did not know they were there. I assumed they were there. The messenger said you followed the children's tracks onto the plain. What better place would Fuilin take them? I took the chance that that was his intent and it seems I was right," he concluded, pointing to the tracks and then to Tulus. "We are both pursuing the same goal here, Tulus. Let us not waste time. They are injured, it appears. Else they would not find it so difficult to follow a cantering horse."

Tulus hesitated.

"Together we have a much better chance of retrieving them than we would alone," Dannenion pleaded.

Tulus let his bow fall to his side and replaced his arrow into his quiver as he walked towards Dannenion. "I welcome any help I can get," he said quietly.

Dannenion snapped his fingers softly, signaling for his horse to return to him. It did so, warily, nostrils flared. Dannenion's eyes widened when he finally saw what the horse might have been reacting to. "You are injured!" he exclaimed. A bloody strip of cloth was tied around Tulus's upper right arm. Worse, the right shoulder of his tunic was soaked in blood.

He nodded. "Demil," he said, as if that was the only explanation necessary. "It was he and not Fuilin that took them. Though I did see Fuilin at the settlement. Legolas and Anastor were already gone by the time I reached it and Fuilin was counting his gold." Tulus all but snarled the last bit.

"Were they hurt when they were captured?" Dannenion asked, falling into step with Tulus as he resumed his march along the man's trail.

Tulus shook his head. "Demil had two elves I did not recognize with him. One of them held a knife to Anastor's throat, Demil shot me when I moved to defend him. Legolas surrendered, so he was not injured."

"Hmph," Dannenion snorted in disgust.

Tulus glared at him, sidelong. "Legolas had a clear shot at Demil. Had an arrow on him. If we have a chance to question him, I imagine we are going to find that he surrendered because he figured he could save himself, but not necessarily me and certainly not Anastor. So you may want to be grateful rather than scornful, you fool. He could have saved himself a good deal of pain if he had been willing to sacrifice Anastor."

"Pain," Dannenion repeated, fear seizing him again. "So they were injured?"

Tulus gestured to another drag mark. "It certainly seems they are by now," he answered grimly.

They walked a few dozen more paces before Tulus put out his hand and crouched down into the grass, gesturing ahead of them with his chin.

Dannenion fell to his knees as well and held the horse back with a hand on its shoulder. Just on the horizon he could see something white. A tent. Outside the tent, on its far side, there was a fire. He could see faint wisps of smoke. And to one side of the tent, he saw two forms.

Tulus pointed south and started crawling in that direction, never taking his eyes off the men.

Dannenion twisted his horse's reins in some tall grass, patted its foreleg and followed him. Tulus skirted quickly around the camp in a wide berth until he came around to a point where he could just see the front flaps of the tent. They were securely closed-tied shut at the base of the flap. No light shone from under the tent or glowed through its canvas. No shadows could be seen inside. Only the men outside the tent were visible. One was apparently asleep, stretched out near the embers of a fire, leaning on a pack. The other sat near him, bow in his hand. He was obviously the watch.

"These have to be the men that have them," Dannenion whispered.

Tulus nodded. "Two men. Three horses. One tent. Most likely, there is another man-the important one-in that tent. With Legolas and Anastor. We wait until all three are visible. My shoulder is too badly injured. I do not trust my aim. Can you hit them from this distance fast enough to kill them all before one of them can kill Legolas and Anastor?"

Dannenion silently slid and arrow from his quiver and nocked it against his bow, nodding.

"Wait until we see all three men," Tulus said. "Be fast. Shoot to kill, not to injure. If the man emerges from the tent with Legolas and Anastor, shoot him first. If he comes out of the tent without them, but moves towards the tent when you start shooting, target him immediately."

Dannenion turned his head and glared at Tulus. "Obviously," he mouthed. The only reason that he did not roll his eyes when Tulus still fidgeted with his own bow was because he did not want to take his eyes off that tent.

By the time the sun began to glow on the horizon, Dannenion was getting stiff, crouched on the ground. His discomfort increased when the man that had been sleeping pushed himself up, walked a ways outside their camp to relieve himself and then began to pull links of sausage and bread from his pack. Dannenion could smell the sausage even from this distance and it made his stomach growl.

A lantern sparked to life inside the tent.

Dannenion shifted to loosen his muscles, raised his bow slightly and pulled his arm back as if drawing it, to stretch his arm.

Next to him, Tulus tensed, resisting the urge to remind him again to wait.

The shadow of a large shape moved from one side of the tent to the other, pausing for a long moment near its middle before continuing towards the flap.

Dannenion raised his bow and drew it.

Tulus nodded. "Yes, take him first, as he is exiting the tent," he whispered.

The ties at the bottom of the tent jerked; then the flap flew open.

The guard and cook turned swiftly to face the tent. A finger waved in its doorway, pointing at the fire. The guard nodded and tossed the spit, suspended over the fire, into the flames. The flap of the tent closed again.

Dannenion released his draw and stared at the camp. "What in all of Arda is the meaning of that?" he whispered.

Frowning, Tulus shook his head.


	4. Fighting back

**Chapter 4: Fighting back**

Legolas's entire world had narrowed to the rope binding his wrists behind him, securing him to the tent pole. He clenched his jaw, breathing sharply through his nose to try to stifle any sound, as he twisted his right arm while holding the rope in place with his left hand. His wrists and arms were already raw from being pulled, and more than once, dragged, behind the man's horse for an entire day, but he ignored the pain and continued twisting, back and forth, until the rope was slick with blood. Then he tried again to pull his right hand up and free. Still too tight! He simply could not pull loose. He slumped forward, releasing a long breath. Just a moment to rest and he would try again. He glanced at the man snoring on the cot just steps away and his stomach clenched. One day's exposure to this man made the importance of escape before they arrived at a whole city of this type of men perfectly clear. And now was the best opportunity. Even injured and fairly exhausted, Legolas was certain he and Anastor could manage three men, and all the easier if they could eliminate one of them in his sleep.

He straightened up and tried again to leverage his hands against one another in an effort to widen the loop of rope around his wrists. The knot gave just a little! He twisted his fingers to feel along the rope and make sure it was still slippery. Then he pulled his hand up again.

"I am almost free!" Anastor whispered excitedly.

Legolas turned towards him. He was blatantly wriggling his arms. Before daring to shush Anastor, Legolas flashed a look at the man and his heart stopped.

Balchthor's eyes were open and his face was quickly contorting in fury.

He loosed an incoherent growl as he rolled out of his cot and lurched at Anastor, hand drawn back. He struck Anastor full across the face, knocking his head against the tent pole he was tied to and stunning Anastor so badly that his only reaction was a quiet grunt.

Legolas loosed one of the curses he had heard the swords master use, frustration overwhelming the good sense to stay quiet. They had both been nearly free! Now Balchthor was awake and had surely noticed what Anastor was so gleeful about.

At the sound of Legolas's voice, Balchthor spun around, bringing the back of his hand across Legolas's jaw.

He shouted something in his own language and then he yelled at them in Westron. "I told you! I do not want to hear you speaking that Elvish garbage. I do not want you speaking at all...plotting with each other." He stood over Anastor, hands on his hips. Then he bent down and grabbed Anastor's jaw, squeezing it hard enough to make his mouth pop open and a squeak of pain to come out of it. He bored filthy fingers between Anastor's lips until he seized his tongue. "If you cannot control it, I'll remove it and that will be the end of that!"

Anastor jerked his face to the side and pulled free of the man's grasp.

Legolas tensed, debating which was the greatest danger: speaking Sindarin to translate the man's threat, so that Anastor understood what he wanted, or remaining silent, as the man wanted, and leaving Anastor with no idea what was angering him.

Balchthor stood and stalked over to his cot. He lit an oil lantern next to it and retrieved a large knife from his pack. At the sight of it, both Legolas and Anastor froze. The man squatted in front of Anastor again and caught his jaw. He pressed the knife's edge against Anastor's lips until they began to trickle blood.

"I am going to teach you a lesson you will not forget. Slaves do not need to be able to speak."

The man thrust the knife into the ground next to Anastor. Then he stood and strode over to the tent flap, loosed its ties and flung it open. He yelled an order at the men outside and turned back to face Anastor.

Anastor's eyes were cold and angry as he glared up at the man, but he drew his knees against his chest, creating as much of a barrier between them as he could.

Balchthor settled on his haunches in front of Anastor and leaned into his face, smiling at him a long moment. It was an evil smile that made Anastor whimper involuntarily in fear. Then the man slowly reached for Anastor's jaw again. Anastor turned his head and drew back against the tent pole, but he could not escape. His skin turn white as Balchthor squeezed his jaw, but he still resisted, so the man gave up on that tactic. He grabbed the knife from where it was stuck in the ground and pressed it between Anastor's lips, twisting it up and down against his teeth, cutting his gums and lips. Anastor opened his mouth with a pained cry and the man thrust the blade flat against his tongue to force his lower jaw further open. Then he held his mouth open by wedging the blade against Anastor's upper and lower molars. With a satisfied gleam, Balchthor fished about until he again seized Anastor's tongue between two grimy fingers. Anastor cried out in fear, but was unable to pull away.

One of the men from outside the tent pushed open the flap and entered the tent with a large iron rod-it appeared to be a cooking spit. One end of it was red hot. He smirked at the sight that greeted him upon entering the tent and thrust the spit, cool end down, into the dirt where the man pointed. At another barked order, he left, still laughing, and closed the tent flap behind him.

"I don't want to kill you-you cost too much for that-so I'll make sure this doesn't bleed too much," Balchthor said, reaching for the hot iron with his free hand, "but make me angrier and we will decide how many eyes you can live without as well, while this iron is nice and hot." He held it close enough to Anastor's cheek that he struggled to move away from it. "Pity to have to ruin your looks now, when soon we were to show you off a bit, but maybe you will be more obedient after this."

Legolas pulled as hard as he could against his bonds, ignoring how the rope tore his skin. Anastor was doing the same.

Balchthor pulled Anastor's tongue out of his mouth as far as he could. Then he drew it upward, against the edge of the knife wedged in Anastor's mouth.

Anastor raised his knees, pulling them even closer to his chest. He planted his feet against the man's groin and kicked as hard as he could.

With a loud scream, the man sprawled onto his back and rolled onto his side, curling in upon himself, moaning. The hot iron fell to the ground beside him.

At the same moment, Legolas pulled his right arm free. He twisted, reached for the iron, fumbled at it and finally managed to seize it. He thrust it, like a sword, as hard as he could into Balchthor's gut. The man roared in pain.

As the man writhed, Anastor opened his mouth as wide as he could and pushed with his tongue until the knife fell away. Pulling hard, he yanked free of the tent pole, grabbed up the knife and leaned over the man, knees on his chest. He placed the knife against his throat and slashed it ear to ear. The man stopped screaming and the tent was silent save for the sounds of Legolas and Anastor's heavy breathing and faint laughter outside the tent.

Anastor looked over at Legolas with wide eyes.

"Cut this," Legolas whispered, tugging at his still bound left hand.

Anastor sliced the rope tying him to the tent pole and gave him a hand up.

"They think that was you screaming," Legolas said, gesturing to the laughing men outside the tent.

"They will figure out fast enough that it was not," Anastor whispered back.

Legolas nodded. "Watch the door while I find the man's bow and sword," he said, diving on the man's pack, driven by urgency to ignore his screaming ribs. Balchthor's sheathed sword was bound to its side and Legolas fumbled to loosen the knotted leather straps with trembling fingers. When it pulled free, he hefted it, giving it a swing to evaluate its weight and balance-it was poorer quality than he was accustomed to. He scooped up the bow, quiver and water skin next to the pack and leapt up, closing the distance between himself and Anastor in two long strides.

"You all right?" he asked, studying the blood and cuts on his face.

Anastor only nodded. "You?"

Legolas also nodded. "Do you think you can draw the bow?" he asked, offering it to him. "I do not think I can," he explained, touching his ribs.

Anastor took the bow. "I can do it." He looked at Legolas questioningly. "Shoot them, steal the horses and head back to the forest?"

Legolas nodded again. "Can you see them?" he asked sidling up to the tent flap cautiously. "We need to do this quickly, before they get suspicious of why it got quiet, but he has not come out," he said, gesturing to the dead man.

Legolas and Anastor stood back from the flap and crouched down, peeking through a small gap near its bottom. The two remaining men were standing a dozen or so paces away, directly in front of the tent, with their backs to it, facing east. Legolas loosed the breath he was holding. Lucky.

Anastor fit an arrow against the bow and drew it partially, familiarizing himself with it before raising it and aiming at the closest man.

Just as he did, that man raised his hand and waved it in an apparent greeting. Then he turned around and walked back towards the fire in front of the tent. Legolas realized what was happening and grabbed the shaft of Anastor's arrow.

"More men," he mouthed as the sound of hoofbeats reached them in the camp.

A good number of hoofbeats.

Anastor peeked out the tent flap again and then turned to stare at Legolas, eyes wide. "Two men, yes, I can shoot that many before they come after us. Three or four, probably. But that," he cocked his thumb towards the tent flap, "is more like...eight or maybe even ten. I cannot shoot that fast. What do we do now?" His voice sounded a little panicked.

Legolas stepped back into the middle of the tent. Anastor was justifiably panicked. If those men found them in the tent with the dead man...

"We will have to make a run for it and hope we can get far enough ahead of them without horses before they notice we are gone. If we can put some distance between us, you will have time enough to shoot them before they catch us. Maybe we can catch a couple horses then. If not, we are walking back to the forest. At least we are respectably armed and have water."

While saying that, Legolas moved to the back side of the tent. He poked his stolen sword at the canvas, creating a small hole. Then he peeked through it. Nothing. He widened the hole. He still saw nothing. He thrust the sword fully through the hole and dragged it down, cutting a slit in the canvas from chest height to the ground. "Come on," he said. And leaving the sword unsheathed, he stepped through the slit. Arrow nocked against the bow, Anastor followed him.

The back side of the tent was facing due west, the direction they wanted to go, towards the forest. And it provided some cover, blocking view of their escape to some degree. Nevertheless, they still struggled, despite their aching ribs, to run crouched as low as they could, moving through the grass as smoothly as possible.

They had made it nearly a hundred paces when Legolas stopped and looked northward.

"Move along, Legolas," Anastor demanded, nearly running into him.

Legolas grabbed Anastor's arm as he dodged around him. "Listen to the birds."

Anastor frowned, but listened. A good many birds called, one after the other, marking their territories with their two note song-one low, short note, one louder and rising note. Legolas had been listening to those birds the entire time they had been on the plain. One bird in the north sang two low notes and one rising one.

Anastor's eyes flew open and Legolas could see the hope rising in them like the sunrise. "All the other birds sing two notes only," Anastor said.

Legolas nodded and glanced over his shoulder. From what he could see, the men were busy greeting each other and settling their horses. He called a single rising note.

From the same clump of grass where they heard the odd bird moments before, came an answering call, the same note, falling in pitch. Legolas drew a long breath. "Tulus," he whispered, heading directly towards the call.

Now it was Anastor's turn to grab his arm. "Are you certain? What if it is those elves? Or more men?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is not. It is definitely Tulus. That is how we signal each other if we are separated." He hurried forward without another pause and within another hundred or so paces, Tulus and Dannenion came into view amongst the tall grass.

Uttering a prayer of thanks, Dannenion rushed to gather Anastor in his arms.

Legolas ignored his painful ribs to greet Tulus with a relieved embrace. When they stepped back, both inspected the other for injuries, just as Dannenion held Anastor by his shoulders, at arm's length, studying him. Legolas looked first at the injury he knew Tulus bore-the arrow wound to his arm. Then his gaze fell on the blood on his tunic.

Tulus frowned. "An arrow wound. Not deep. And it is my place to worry over your injuries, not the other way around, so your turn," he said, eyeing Legolas's wrists, upper arm and various bruises.

"He cut my arm to have my blood to send to adar," Legolas said with a scornful tone. "And they bound our wrists. Neither injury is bad. But I think I have a broken rib," he admitted more quietly.

Tulus frowned.

"Where is the king?" Anastor was asking his father.

Legolas glanced over at him. Anastor's question was a good one. "Where is adar?" he echoed him.

"A day behind us, I would guess," Dannenion answered. He turned west. "We should get out of here before your escape is discovered."

Anastor moved to follow him, but pursued his line of questioning. "How do you come to be a day ahead of the king?" he asked.

"Another good question," Legolas said quietly. He did not follow Dannenion. Instead, he shifted his grip on the stolen sword to one that was more appropriate for fighting. His gaze shifted to Tulus.

"Once I was found and released from where Demil bound me, I sent a messenger to the king and came straight after you, so I am ahead of the king the amount of time it took the messenger to travel to the stronghold and the king to travel to the border," Tulus explained.

Legolas nodded silently and looked at Dannenion.

Dannenion loosed a frustrated sigh. "When I heard Anastor was taken too, I told Thranduil that I wanted to help him find you, but naturally he forbade me to come. Told me to stay in the stronghold. There was no possibility that I would stay there while Anastor was in danger and I do not care if Manwe himself had ordered it."

Legolas could not blame him for that. Still...

"But how did you come to be a day ahead of the king?" Anastor repeated. "You should have left about the same time as him."

Dannenion shook his head and marched west, pushing Anastor in front of him.

"Dannenion and I are both familiar with that settlement where Demil took you," Tulus answered softly. "We both went straight there-Dannenion directly from the stronghold, on horseback, and I following your trail from the border on foot. We met following your trail from the settlement to here and we have been watching their camp for a few hours."

"How are you and Tulus familiar with that settlement, adar?" Anastor asked.

Dannenion did not answer. He kept marching his son westward.

Legolas started after them, satisfied. "Were Fuilin and Demil still at the settlement when you got there?" he asked. He was speaking to Tulus, but it was Dannenion that answered.

"They shot at me," he said, bitterly.

Legolas stopped walking and looked at Tulus. "They will attack adar," he began.

Tulus immediately shook his head. "The king will follow the trail there and he will be with an appropriate number of guards. He will decide how to handle them. My responsibility is to get you back to the forest and that is all I am doing." He raised a hand when Legolas drew a breath to protest. "Your adar is an experienced warrior-far more so than you and he knows what he is facing. I am too injured to draw a bow and I am fighting with my off hand. If your rib is truly broken, you will not draw a bow either. You will be hard pressed to defend yourself with a sword. Anastor has next to no training with a sword yet. Dannenion is the only one of us fully capable of fighting. We are in no position to fight four elves. It is out of the question. The king must defend himself. Move," he concluded, pointing west.

With a sigh, Legolas continued after Dannenion and Anastor.

At that moment, they heard the faint sounds of shouting from the mannish camp. Everyone turned and looked towards it. Men were streaming out of the tent, some out the flap and others out of the slit Legolas made in the back. They all rushed to grab the reins of their horses.

"Your escape has been discovered," Tulus said, grasping Legolas's arm and pulling him forward.

"We will not out run them on foot," Dannenion said.

"We can try to hide," Anastor suggested. "Men will not easily track elves." That was something they learned in one of their training classes. Anastor did not sound as if he wanted to bet his life on it.

Several men had managed to mount their horses. They spread out, riding west and searching the grasses, swords drawn.

"We cannot hide," Tulus said. He pulled Legolas to face him. "Dannenion had a horse." He pointed northwest. "It is grazing a few hundred paces in that direction. Get on it and ride as fast as you can. Northwest, else you will pass Fuilin's settlement again. We will stop as many of them that we can."

Legolas looked from Tulus to Dannenion, scowling. Dannenion, to his amazement, had already pushed Anastor northward and was nocking his bow and aiming at one of the men. Legolas looked back at Tulus, shaking his head. "Anastor and I will stay with you. Anastor can use a bow. I can try. There are too many for you to face alone, injured."

Anastor was also not having the idea of abandoning his father. He stumbled to a stop after the shove Dannenion gave him, turned and nocked an arrow.

Tulus grasped Legolas's arm and pulled him next to Anastor, just as Anastor got off a shot that knocked one of the approaching men off his horse. The others galloped straight at them.

Tulus grabbed Anastor as well, spun both he and Legolas around and gave them a hard shove. "Move," he ordered. "Legolas, I speak with the king's own authority in matters of your safety and I am ordering you to get out of here. Now!"

Legolas hesitated a moment longer and then, with a glance at Anastor, they turned and ran in the direction Tulus and Dannenion had indicated.

As soon as they departed, Legolas heard Dannenion loose an arrow. It hit its target with a thud. A glance over his shoulder showed Dannenion targeting another man and Tulus standing with his sword raised in his left hand. Legolas clenched his jaw and kept running.

Moments later, he saw a horse munching idly on several long blades of grass hanging from its mouth. He and Anastor turned slightly towards it and slowed their pace, not wanting to scare it off.

It raised its head and pricked its ears, swiveling them towards the approaching elves.

"Easy," Legolas said soothingly, holding out his hand.

Something moved in the grass behind the horse.

Legolas froze and held his hand out to stop Anastor. Something glinted in the grass behind the horse.

Demil, sword in his hand, stepped into full view.

Legolas's heart pounded as Demil took a step towards them, swinging his sword in a wide arc as he did. "So Dannenion did manage to free you from the Men," he said casually, looking over Legolas's shoulder.

Behind them, swords clanged together. Tulus and Dannenion had obviously engaged the men. Legolas raised his stolen sword into a mid guard, stepped between Demil and Anastor and took a step back for his step forward.

"And is that Tulus with him?" Demil asked, gaze still focused over Legolas's shoulder. "How perfect." He faced Legolas. "Fuilin thought I should follow Dannenion, to make sure he did not manage to cause us trouble. We do not want him to free you and inspire Balchthor to come asking for his gold back, do we?"

"Balchthor is not going to be asking for anything ever again," Anastor spat.

Demil's eyebrows shot up. "Dannenion killed him, did he?"

"I killed him," Anastor shot back.

In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw Anastor brandishing the knife he had taken from the man.

Demil nodded once with an impressed expression. "That might actually serve us well. I am certain we can find another man to sell you to. Another bag of coins would be so useful."

"You cannot sell what you do not posses," Anastor answered.

Demil nodded and his gaze shifted to Legolas, smiling. "I hear you have had several years training with that sword, Legolas. Unlike your fellow First Years," he nodded at Anastor, "who have had several months of training. Did you know that I first fought with a sword in Alqualonde?" He leaned forward as if he intended to whisper a secret to Legolas. "I think my experience exceeds yours. Do you agree?"

Legolas focused on keeping his breathing even. He knew that Demil's experience killing elves far exceeded his own, but he was not that easily goaded or cowed.

"How are your ribs feeling, Legolas?" Demil taunted him, laughing lightly. "Shall we find out?"

With that he launched a dramatic, wide arching attack at Legolas's head, intending to force him to execute a high block, which truly would have made Legolas's ribs scream, had he done so, but it had been a long time since Legolas was so inexperienced to block when he could void. He pivoted back and to the side, pushing Anastor behind him and allowing Demil to rush past him.

"Anastor, get on the horse and get out of here," Legolas ordered.

"Not a chance," Anastor answered back. He took a step forward to stand next to Legolas.

Demil smiled, turning his sword in a mid guard to remain faced off with Legolas. He thrust forward, aiming for the back of Legolas's sword hand. Legolas lowered his arm and Demil's sword missed its target. Both of them stepped back, out of each other's range, facing off with mid guards again.

"Anastor, at least get where I can see you," Legolas said angrily. "I cannot tell if Demil is going to go through me, right into you."

Anastor came around from behind Legolas, still brandishing the knife and circling Demil.

Demil shifted his stance to allow him to react to an attack from Anastor too, but his focus remained on Legolas. He made several feints to other points on Legolas's arm, presumably to disarm him, but Legolas knew Demil was toying with him, while seeking his most exploitable weaknesses. He voided each attack, trying to be conscious to not use the same void every time.

"You can keep your head, Legolas. I will give you that," Demil said, still smiling, though the smile was now more serious. "But you are forgetting one thing: I am not Langon and this is not a lesson. This fight will not end until one of us ends it, which means, you are going to have to fight back."

With that, Demil feinted towards his arm again, and as before, Legolas lowered his arm and pivoted onto his back foot, avoiding the blow. Instead of returning to a guard position, Demil followed through with another attack, placing his full weight on his forward leg and taking advantage of the fact that Legolas's blade was lowered to turn a cutting blow straight at his shoulder.

Legolas could not void this attack-he was off balance, his weight already on his back leg, making it difficult for him to swiftly step back again. He also could not block the attack-his sword was below Demil's and cutting it upward would not be forceful enough to turn Demil's sword. His only option was to attack. Demil had left nearly his entire body open, since he had no offhand weapon, so Legolas turned his sword further downward, cutting Demil's forward thigh and forcing him to jump back, pulling his attack back with him, to take weight off that leg.

Demil turned and danced on and off his wounded leg, adjusting to the injury.

Legolas pivoted with him, but took several steps back, increasing their distance.

Demil shook his head. "You should have killed me. You could have killed me." He lifted his sword and pointed it at Legolas, level with his throat, testing the distance between them. "Your mercy is...amusing, but I warn you: do not expect the same from me. I would prefer to disable you. You are more valuable as a live hostage, but even if I kill you, I still have Anastor to sell. You, Legolas, are not going back to Eryn Galen today. One way or another. You had better get that through your head."

Without giving Legolas time to consider that comment, Demil came at him again, this time with a committed attack-he thrust with full force and speed at Legolas's shoulder. Legolas voided while aiming a cutting blow at Demil's inner arm. Demil turned his blade down and blocked, their swords clashing together. Instead of stepping back, Demil immediately launched another attack, swinging his sword up at Legolas's neck. Legolas was forced to block this blow as well. He stepped back, trying to increase the distance between them, but Demil followed him, aiming a hacking blow at his shoulder again. Legolas managed to void, stepping back several paces, but Demil still pursued him, refusing to allow Legolas to back out of fighting range.

Legolas felt panic rising. He was shocked when Demil cursed and turned sharply, swinging his sword away from Legolas, behind himself.

Anastor jumped back, blood on the blade of his knife.

Legolas took advantage of the distraction Anastor created to put some distance between himself and Demil, while scanning him. Blood flowed down his left arm. Anastor had cut him fairly badly.

Demil charged Legolas again, hacking at his body once, twice, a third time, forcing Legolas to back out of range with each blow until he could pivot sufficiently to return the attack with a slice to Demil's midsection. Demil turned his blade down in a block, which he then swung into an attack at Legolas's neck, this time faster than Legolas could block. Legolas stumbled back, in an effort to avoid the blow, losing balance.

Demil raised his sword to finish the fight, but jerked in pain when Anastor attacked him from behind again, this time driving the knife into his calf. Demil swung his sword down, cutting Anastor's forearm deeply enough to force him to drop the knife. Then he stooped to snatch it up and spun to face Legolas, now wielding the sword and knife, but heavily favoring his injured calf.

Legolas righted himself, and studied Demil's posture while taking a deep breath. If he could injure Demil's other leg badly enough, it would end this fight. And doing so should not be terribly difficult. Demil would have to lead with his uninjured leg. His injured calf would obviously not bear his full weight.

Demil leapt forward, indeed leading with his uninjured leg, swinging a high attack at Legolas's head. Legolas pivoted out of line with that attack and thrust his sword at Demil's leg, which was apparently planted firmly in place and offering a solid target.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Demil guessed that Legolas would not take the fatal blow his open body offered-that, instead, Legolas would expose himself in a low attack to Demil's leg-and Demil was ready. He shifted his own weight back onto his injured leg, grimacing as he did, and used the upswing of his sword to slice at Legolas's body.

Legolas barely had time to step back. Demil's sword sliced through his tunic and the skin underneath, cutting him from just below his ribs to his collarbone. For a brief moment, Legolas felt nothing. He only saw blood well out of the cut. Then, pain, hot as fire, spread the length of the wound. He staggered back another step, off balance and unfocused. It was only from the corner of his eye that Legolas saw Demil's downswing, and he struggled, through a haze, to determine where it was aimed.


	5. Despicable acts

**Chapter 5: Despicable acts**

Unable to see through the white haze of pain that the cut caused, Legolas reacted on instinct, stepping to the side of the form lunging towards him. It was enough. He felt and heard the swish of a sword narrowly missing his shoulder. Struggling to gather himself, he took a deep breath and pressed his off hand against his chest, clutching the edges of his tunic together, as if that might also close the wound.

Something lurched by him.

"You little orc!" Demil snarled. "Get off me!" He grunted several times, each time louder than the last.

As his vision cleared, Legolas saw Demil staggering side to side, bent over at the waist. He shook his head to make sure he was seeing properly. Anastor had jumped on Demil's back! He had one arm wrapped around his neck. The other punched Demil hard in the kidneys. Demil twisted his body about to try to throw off his attacker and avoid bearing extra weight on his injured leg, stabbing behind himself with the knife he had taken from Anastor.

Anastor was forced to let go and jump away, but not before he kicked Demil hard over the cut on his leg.

Demil cursed again and swung wildly at Anastor, chasing him down with his sword.

Legolas gritted his teeth, righted himself, and followed after Demil, sword raised for a high attack, intending to cleave Demil's right shoulder.

Just as his blow was about to land, Demil abandoned his pursuit of Anastor, turned, and blocked the attack, driving Legolas's sword down with his own. He raised the knife in his off hand. Legolas stepped back, out of range and hefted his sword again. Before he could attack, his attention was drawn over Demil's shoulder to a running figure, charging straight at them.

Demil's brows drew together and he spun around, sword raised and deflected the blow Dannenion aimed at his head.

Legolas blinked. Where had Dannenion come from? He looked across the plain for Tulus and found him only a few dozen paces away, fighting with three men. He was slowly being forced back and was obviously tiring. Several dead or injured bodies were scattered between Tulus and where he and Dannenion had first engaged the men.

Legolas looked at Dannenion. For the moment, he was holding his own with Demil, their fight resembling the sparring matches Legolas had watched between his father and uncles.

Dannenion loosed a curse as Demil landed a deep cut on his shoulder.

This was not a sparring match.

Legolas hefted his sword and, coming up behind Demil, swung it at his body at the same time Dannenion aimed a thrust at his neck. Voiding Dannenion's attack, Demil blocked Legolas's with the knife in his off hand.

Legolas and Dannenion pressed Demil together, driving him backwards with simultaneous lunges.

Demil danced back and knocked Legolas's sword off guard with an upswing. With his downswing, he aimed at Dannenion's sword arm, obviously again counting on Legolas to not take advantage of his exposed body.

Dannenion stepped back, in an effort to void Demil's attack, but Demil lunged forward, following him, and brought his sword down across Dannenion's mid forearm. Dannenion screamed and fell to his knees while Demil allowed his momentum to turn him towards Legolas.

"Shadow take you!" Anastor yelled over his father's groans as Legolas brought his sword back into position to meet Demil's next attack.

Wood creaked.

Legloas and Demil both half turned in response to the sound.

Anastor stood to the side of them, the bow he had taken from Balchthor at full draw and an arrow aimed at Demil's chest.

Eyes widening, Legolas took several panicked steps back, away from Demil. He would not have trusted himself to properly target Demil from this distance with his own bow. He knew Anastor did not have such skill. Moreover, he wielded a completely unfamiliar and, given the poor quality of the man's sword, undoubtedly poorly tuned bow. At such a close range, Anastor's arrow would not have time to straighten out and fly true. Legolas had no desire to be its victim.

Demil also backpeddled quickly and as he did, he swung his sword, arm fully extended, at where the arrow rested against the bow and Anastor's bow hand.

Anastor released the arrow just as Demil's sword came down upon it. The arrow was driven downward by the force of the sword, burying itself into the ground to its fletchings. It, however, did not deflect Demil's swing in the slightest. The sword carried through, hitting the lower arm of Anastor's bow and missing his hand by no more than the width of the blade. The bow was still under tension, releasing from full draw. When the blade struck it, the bow snapped and shattered, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. Anastor and Demil both dodged sharply away to avoid being struck.

Even as he turned, Demil raised his sword, looking sidelong at Anastor, calculating his next attack, aimed at Anastor's neck. Demil's body was fully exposed, not even protected by the knife he still bore in his off hand. He was clearly confident that Legolas was either too injured, too far away and slow, or too unwilling to take advantage of the opportunity he was offering.

Legolas drew a deep breath. This had to end. Exhaling, he took a long step forward and checked Demil's lunge towards Anastor by driving his sword under Demil's armpit, between his ribs, and burying it to the hilt.

Demil's eyes widened and his body jerked, twisting the blade in his side. His mouth opened, but no sound escaped him.

Blood poured from the wound, covering Legolas's hands. The hilt of the sword, slick with blood, pulled free as Demil fell forward, eyes already glazed.

In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw Anastor watch as Demil fell. Then he rushed towards his father.

Dannenion was clutching his right arm between his left arm and his body, but, at Anastor's approach, he pointed across the plain, towards where Tulus fought the men. Legolas could not tear his gaze from Demil to look where Dannenion pointed.

* * *

Thranduil ground his teeth together as he and his guards sped past another patch of crushed grass. The horses were growing tired. They sensed their riders' urgency and had given their all to satisfy it, but they were nearly spent. He and his guards rode full out between the stronghold and the edge of the forest, expecting to be able to obtain fresh horses from the border patrol. They reached the location of the First Year's drill well before dawn for their efforts. The patrol had been ready for them-horses standing ready, Legolas and Anastor's weapons gathered and quickly transferred to Conuion-all at the first mark of the trail Tulus had laid for them.

They had debated only briefly before deciding to trust it.

Thranduil had to trust Tulus at the moment. Tulus was the best chance Legolas had.

Fresh horses, burdened by one elf each-not two, as the horses Legolas's captors rode had been-bought Thranduil still more time. He had hoped to catch Legolas when the ruined mannish settlement came into view, but it was abandoned. Thranduil had not allowed the guards much time to search it or the horses much time to rest. Four sets of elven foot prints and two sets of horse tracks left that settlement going in one direction-east. Three more sets of elven tracks returned to the forest. If one of the latter sets of tracks was Legolas's, then Thranduil would be relieved. But he was nothing if not practical and it stood to reason that Legolas and Anastor were the two elves being dragged behind the horse whose tracks they currently followed. One of the other sets of tracks going in this direction belonged to Tulus, as evidenced by the fact that he continued to mark the trail. Who the second horse and other set of elven tracks belonged to, Thranduil could not imagine. It galled him badly that three sets of tracks-he guessed Manadhien and her servants-returned to the forest, un-pursued, but Conuion flatly refused to reduce the number of guards accompanying him in order to send Pendurion and Belloth after them. Thranduil did not want to waste time arguing the point. Manadhien, Fuilin and his brothers would get theirs once Thranduil retrieved his son.

Retrieving Legolas-not the blood in the drag marks-not laying hands on Manadhien-had to remain his focus for the time being.

"I hear the sounds of a battle," Conuion whispered, slowing his horse to quiet its hooves. The horse gratefully complied, its sides heaving for breath as Conuion searched the horizon.

Thranduil and the other guards slowed to a stop as well, looking back at Conuion as he fell behind. Conuion pointed due east at the same moment Thranduil also heard a noise-metal striking metal. He turned where Conuion pointed, searching.

"There! I am certain I see movement there," Conuion exclaimed, urging his horse forward again.

Thranduil did the same, whispering a promise to the exhausted animal that they would soon stop.

Conuion was correct. Several figures were fighting on the horizon. Thranduil's eyes stayed on them as he charged forward. From this distance, all he could make out was that one figure fought at least three others. He drew an arrow from his quiver as he rode. None of the figures was Legolas. They all had dark hair. The group of three were men, it appeared. They were heavier of build and not nearly so skilled as the one they fought. He was not a man. He was an elf. And he fought left handed. Tulus, possibly? Fighting with his off hand, given that he was known to have a wounded right arm.

Thranduil's heart seized. If that was Tulus, where was Legolas?

The clanging of swords and grunts of exertion now echoed clearly on the plain, but, suddenly, Thranduil heard swords from another location-one slightly closer and to the north. His gaze darted in that direction, again searching the tall grass. Conuion turned north, signaling Galuauth to follow him. Galuauth fit an arrow against his bowstring and drew. Conuion pulled his sword from its scabbard.

Finally, Thranduil spotted what they had seen-Legolas, Anastor and a third elf...was that Dannenion? They were fighting a fourth person. Defeating him. The fourth person was on the ground and falling forward.

The third elf - it was Dannenion! - was also on his knees, but was pointing back towards Tulus and the men. Anastor ran to his father's side, took his bow, and loosed one arrow from his quiver and then a second in quick succession, dropping two of the men surrounding Tulus, just as the third fell to Tulus's sword. Tulus turned, looking for more enemies and when he saw none, he allowed his sword to sag downwards and drag the ground for a moment. Then he scanned westward and jogged towards Legolas. Legolas was still standing over the person he, Anastor and Dannenion had been fighting, staring down at him.

Conuion and Galuauth relaxed, but Galuauth held his arrow against his bowstring as they thundered across the plain, closing the distance to Legolas.

Legolas did not turn at their approach, but Dannenion and Anastor did. Anastor drew his bow again. Dannenion hefted himself up, leaning heavily on his son, and lifting a sword in his left hand.

Thranduil and his guards raised their bows, but Dannenion and Anastor lowered their weapons the moment they recognized who approached. Dannenion made a point of dropping his to the ground and holding the open hand that had held it out to the side. Anastor looked at his father oddly for a moment, but nothing, it seemed, could dull his joy at seeing Thranduil and his guards. He was grinning at them broadly and with obvious relief.

"Explain your presence here," Thranduil demanded of Dannenion, as soon as he was close enough to be heard.

Legolas did not even turn at the sound of Thranduil's voice. He was still staring at the dead...elf! That was no man, face down on the plain. His form was too slender. Tulus was now at Legolas's side, encouraging him to walk away a few steps and sit down.

"If you think that you can command me to leave my son to the mercy of the likes of them," Dannenion gestured at the dead elf with his chin, "then you are mistaken."

So that elf was one of Manadhien's servants, Thranduil thought as he slowed his horse and jumped off him as soon as doing so was reasonable. He glanced at the elf again, unable to see his face to determine which servant, but he now saw that he had been killed with a mannish sword. Thranduil frowned. He had only seen Legolas, Anastor and Dannenion around the man. A sick feeling began to stir his gut and he dismissed Dannenion from his mind, focusing on his son. Conuion and Galuauth would see to Dannenion. They dismounted and ran straight to him.

Tulus was now dragging Legolas insistently away from the dead elf, much more forcefully than Thranduil liked to see his son handled, nearly pulling him off his feet. Tulus put his arm around Legolas's back to prevent him from stumbling and then he left it there. To support him.

Frowning, Thranduil walked towards them swiftly, calling to his son. He was surprised by how breathless his own voice sounded.

That finally got Legolas's attention. He raised his head and half turned towards Thranduil as Tulus guided him away from the body of the elf.

Tulus looked over his shoulder, directly at Thranduil, his emotions plainly written on his face. Worry was the chief one, but when he focused on Thranduil, Tulus's expression clearly issued a warning.

Thranduil closed the distance between them in three long strides. As he did, Legolas turned fully towards him, but let his gaze drop back to the ground. Thranduil's breath rushed from his lungs. The front of Legolas's tunic was soaked in blood. Tunic and undershirt were slashed open. And, most frightening by far, so was Legolas's chest. Blood still oozed from the gaping wound that ran the height of his ribcage.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!," Thranduil breathed, grasping Legolas by the shoulders. Legolas did not look up or acknowledge his father at all. Thranduil scanned him swiftly. In addition to the wound on his chest, his face was bruised, his arms were bruised, cut and the skin torn away in several places, and his wrists were raw. Despite all those injuries, there was too much blood on his hands to have seeped from the cuts on his wrists and arms, or even the one on his chest.

"Sit down, Legolas," Tulus was ordering him.

Legolas's legs gave out and he slid to the ground with his guard's help.

Thranduil looked from Legolas's glazed expression to the dead elf, killed by the mannish sword. Then his gaze darted back to Tulus. "Did Legolas...?" was all he managed to say.

Tulus nodded up at him, his expression begging for silence.

Thranduil closed his eyes. Sinking to his knees next to Legolas, he pulled him into an embrace. At first, Legolas did not move. Thranduil pulled him closer, tight against him, cradling his head against his shoulder with one hand. Finally, Legolas loosed a long breath and his arms reached around Thranduil, returning the embrace. After a moment, the fabric of Thranduil's tunic twisted in Legolas's grasp. Thranduil's heart twisted in much the same manner. He looked over Legolas's shoulder at Demil. Oropher had led his family east so that no one in it would ever have contemplate such evil, much less... He could scarcely acknowledge that his son had been forced to... He could not even bring himself to think it.

Tulus let them be for several breathes before placing a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "My lord, his wound," he said softly. "I have not even looked at it yet."

Thranduil nodded, tightened his grasp on Legolas quickly, and then released him.

Legolas's hands fell limply away from Thranduil as Tulus guided him back to lean against him.

"I need to take this off," Tulus whispered, quickly unfastening the lacings of Legolas's tunic and undershirt and stripping them off him.

Legolas did not respond. Nor did he move when Tulus mopped, ineffectively, at the blood on his chest with the shirt. Doing so did not clean it enough to properly inspect the wound.

Tulus's brow knit and he unfastened the waterskin and the sheath of his knife from his belt. He drew the knife, thrust it into the ground next to them and placed the sheath against Legolas's lips. That finally elicited a response. An oddly strong response, it seemed to Thranduil. Legolas sat up sharply, pushing himself up to stand, his hand reaching to his waist for his own knife, which, fortunately, was not there. Tulus caught his shoulders and pulled him firmly back in place. "I have to clean that wound, Legolas. I need to pour water over it and that is going to sting. Probably a good deal. Then I am certain it will need at least some stitches. You want to bite this, trust me," he concluded, again holding up the leather sheath.

Eyes on the sheath, Legolas drew a deep breath and made an obvious effort to relax. When Tulus again held the sheath to his lips, Legolas bit down on it. He tensed and sucked in a sharp breath as Tulus used water from his waterskin to flush out the wound.

Thranduil had seen many wounds in his life, far too many on himself. He found this wound on Legolas a bit too difficult to look at. He turned away as Tulus worked and his gaze fell on the captain of his Guard. "Conuion," Thranduil called, "get over here." Tulus was wounded and needed treated himself. Conuion could let Galuauth manage Dannenion. His attention was needed to help Legolas.

"How bad is it, Tulus?" Conuion replied, not moving.

"Not fatal," Tulus responded quickly, wiping away bloodied water with Legolas's shirt to better see the wound itself. "Not so deep as to cut muscle, at least not too badly. But it is fully through the skin for two hand's widths. That will need stitched and then I can wrap it."

"Then wait, Thranduil," Conuion answered.

Thranduil's brows drew together severely and he turned to glare at Conuion. When he did, he gasped. Conuion and Galuauth both knelt over Dannenion, who they had laid flat on his back. They were binding his arm... No, the stump of his arm! They had his shirt wrapped around the stump of his right arm and were twisting a belt as tightly as possible to staunch the blood flow. Anastor was standing over them, eyes wide with fear.

Thranduil made an effort to gather himself and take in the entire scene before him. Legolas's wounds were not life threatening. Tulus was right. They would, in fact, heal easily and leave no long term damage. Tulus's right arm and shoulder were wounded, as had been described to Thranduil. In addition to those injuries, his left arm was deeply cut, obviously by a blade, both above his elbow and and across the top of his forearm. Deeply enough that Thranduil saw Tulus's little finger and the finger next to it did not move as he cleaned Legolas's wound. The tendon that controlled them was clearly severed.

Thranduil turned to study Anastor. He had unusual cuts around his mouth and his face was as badly bruised as Legolas's. Also like Legolas, his wrists and arms were raw. And he bore a cut at least as bad as Tulus's across his right forearm. Even from several paces away, Thranduil could see bone in the deepest part of the gash.

But Dannenion's injury was by far the worse-his right arm, from below the elbow, was severed. Thranduil involuntarily searched the ground and swallowed hard when he saw the arm and a sword from the training program near it. Dannenion must have taken that sword, along with the horse, when he went after Anastor.

Widening his focus, Thranduil counted the bodies of nine men, fallen between where Tulus and Anastor had finished them and a place nearly a hundred paces away. At least twice that distance again was a tent. Dannenion and Tulus must have managed to get the children out of the tent and this far away on the plain before the men noticed their escape. He frowned. That did not make much sense. Why not kill the men rather than trying to retrieve the children by stealth? Tulus and Dannenion could have easily drawn them away and killed nine men.

"Tulus, what happened here?" Thranduil asked, turning back to his son's guard, still cleaning the deepest parts of Legolas's wound. Legolas no longer looked stunned. He was was now clearly uncomfortable. His son's pain made Thranduil's anger surface and he was suddenly reminded that Tulus was well over a dozen paces from Legolas when he first saw him. "What happened here? he repeated, this time more angrily.

Tulus shook his head. "I do not know, my lord," he answered, without looking up from Legolas's wound. He obviously assumed Thranduil specifically wanted an explanation of how Legolas was injured.

Fury burned through the shock of finding his son in such a state and Thranduil grabbed Tulus's least injured arm roughly. "How is it that you do not know?" he demanded, allowing his voice to rise. "How is it that you were that far away," he pointed onto the plain, where the men's bodies laid, with his free hand, "when my son is this seriously injured? How is it that I find him here to begin with?"

Tulus frowned, wringing water tinged with blood from the shirt. He only looked at Thranduil wordlessly, clearly at a loss to answer any of those questions.

Legolas, on the other hand, responded without hesitation. His hand flew up to grab Thranduil's wrist and pull his arm down, away from Tulus. He held it down, in a painful grasp, as he answered. "Tulus was so far away because he and Dannenion were trying to hold those men back while Anastor and I were supposed to escape on Dannenion's horse. None of us knew..." his voice failed and his gaze drifted to Demil.

"Leave it, Legolas," Tulus whispered.

Legolas looked back at his father, looking every bit as angry as Thranduil had felt moments before. "And as for why we are here, if that is anyone's fault other than Demil's, it is mine. Mine alone. I made the choice to surrender and, after I did, Tulus had no other option but to do the same. It was my decision, adar, and not one that Tulus had any opportunity to influence, since he was already fighting one of the elves that attacked us, in an effort to give me time to escape and to help Anastor, who the elves grabbed first. Tulus did his duty. Again. Leave him be."

"Mind your tone, Legolas," Tulus whispered, reaching to remove Legolas's hand from Thranduil's wrist.

"He is fine, Tulus," Thranduil replied in a quiet voice, gaze still locked with Legolas's until Tulus succeeded in pulling Legolas's hand away.

Then Legolas looked down again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He leaned back, propped up on his left arm and squirmed a bit, trying to find a posture that did not hurt. "I apologize for my tone, adar," he said quietly.

Thranduil shook his head and leaned forward to place a kiss on Legolas's forehead. "You are fine," he repeated. "Or at least you will be, and that is all that matters." He stood, looking down at Tulus. "You will need a good amount of cloth to bind that wound, he said, nodding towards Legolas's chest. "And we will need more still for your own wounds, and Anastor's."

That made Legolas sit back up straight with a grimace and search for Anastor.

"I am going to see what supplies I can find," Thranduil continued.

"A needle, my lord," Tulus reminded him, as Thranduil took a step away.

Legolas grabbed at his father again, this time catching his calf. "You cannot go alone. We do not know where Fuilin or the other two elves are. And we do not know if that is all the men or if more will come."

Tulus reached up, grasped Thranduil's sleeve and pulled him back down to a crouching position. "He is right, my lord. I do not know where Demil came from..."

"He said Fuilin sent him after Dannenion, to make sure Dannenion would not be able to take us from the men," Legolas supplied. "When Demil does not return, Fuilin may look for him and that would certainly bring him here as well." He looked at Thranduil. "Did you see the ruins of the mannish settlement they camped in?"

Thranduil nodded. "We followed your trail there, but it was abandoned when we searched it."

"If Fuilin is not there, he could be anywhere, including near here," Legolas replied.

"And we started out with only three men and do not know where the rest came from," Tulus added. "We cannot know for certain that we have eliminated all the threats here."

"Belloth, start trying to round up some of these horses," Conuion ordered, referring to the men's horses, now scattered across the plain, grazing. Conuion and Galuauth were now looking over Anastor's wounds. "I want us out of here quickly." He glanced up at Tulus. "Will we find anything useful in that tent?" he asked, pointing at it with his thumb.

"I do not know," Tulus responded.

"Anastor and I escaped from the tent before Tulus and Dannenion arrived," Legolas quickly intervened, in response to Conuion's frown. "We met Tulus and Dannenion on the plain."

"We had been watching the tent, waiting for the third man inside it to come into view, so we could eliminate them all at once," Tulus explained. "But Legolas and Anastor got themselves out." He turned to Legolas. "You killed the man inside? We know there was one. We saw him."

"Anastor killed him," Legolas said.

"But Legolas fought Demil," Anastor said with a tone of awe. "He did really well."

Legolas looked down at the mention of Demil, closing his eyes.

"Legolas fought him every bit as well as Adar did," Anastor continued. "And it was Legolas that finished him after Demil..." Anastor looked back at his father's arm, not able to find words for that.

Dannenion stirred, trying to sit up and managing to prop himself up, facing Thranduil, on his uninjured arm. "Legolas did not intend to, my lord, I am sure," he rasped. "He had been trying to disarm him. I was able to get several glimpses of their fight before I finally managed to disengage from the men. Legolas was not trying to kill him. In the end... well, he does not have the experience to know how serious a wound...he probably thought...intended to hit Demil's shoulder and simply hit him lower than he planned."

"Thank you, Dannenion," Legolas said quietly. "But I cannot claim it was an accident. I knew exactly what sort of wound I was inflicting."

"The right sort," Anastor interjected, now arguing, brows furrowed. "One to end the fight. Demil himself said it would have to end that way. It is his fault, if it is anyone's. None of us wanted to be here but him."

"You are absolutely and entirely correct, Anastor," Thranduil assured him. "Is there anything in that tent that might interest us? Help us to treat your adar?" he asked, trying to turn the subject back to information that would remove them from this place as quickly as possible. Away from topics that so clearly brought Legolas pain.

Anastor shrugged. "The men all had packs, but we never saw what was in them or had time to search them. They would have clothes we could rip into bandages, surely. And food and more water, probably. I am starving."

"Get them some food and water, Pendurion," Thranduil ordered. They had at least brought rations with them when they left the stronghold. They could do that much. "I am going to search that tent."

Conuion gestured for Galuauth to follow him.

"Look for gold coins too," Anastor called after him. "The man might not have given all he had to Fuilin."

Thranduil stumbled to a halt, turned and stared back at Anastor.

Anastor only nodded his head encouragingly.

As he resumed his march to the men's camp, Thranduil's left hand balled into a fist as his right reached to draw his sword. He hoped Fuilin was hiding in that tent. Or more men. Anything. He needed something to slake his anger.

* * *

"We are approaching the mannish settlement. Be alert," Conuion announced.

That news was enough to draw Legolas out of his somewhat dazed introspection and into the present. He looked ahead of them through the descending darkness and indeed could just glimpse the tallest of the ruins. The sound of arrows sliding from quivers whispered in Legolas's ears. He was not carrying his bow. His injuries did not allow him to use it. So he loosened his sword in his scabbard, grateful that Conuion had taken the time to retrieve his weapons from the border when they passed it. He hoped he never saw that mannish sword again.

In an effort to turn his thoughts away from that subject, Legolas focused on his surroundings and was somewhat surprised to see that Conuion had allowed Thranduil to ride at the front of their group. Of course, Conuion rode on one side of him and Galuauth on the other. Just behind them, Dannenion shared a horse with Pendurion, which was apparently a wise choice, despite Dannenion's earlier protests that he could ride alone. Slouched back against Pendurion as he was, Dannenion had obviously either fallen asleep or unconscious from his wound. Anastor rode next to him on one of the horses they had taken from the men. Tulus, riding another of the men's horses, was in his place by Legolas's side. Legolas managed to smile at him when he saw his guard's concerned expression aimed at him. Then he glanced behind them. Belloth brought up the rear, still leading the rest of the men's horses.

The sight of him made Legolas snort in laughter despite himself.

Belloth had a herd of horses tethered and following him! Thranduil must have made the guards catch every last one of the men's horses. Legolas had not bothered to pay attention to his father's orders to the guards as they had readied to leave the men's camp. He knew his father had gone to inspect the man's tent. And he saw Pendurion and Belloth luring the horses. He was riding one of them himself, strange tack and all, since his father had insisted there might be some use for the leather, if for nothing else, to sell in Esgaroth. Legolas wondered what else they had stripped from the tent and the men's bodies before Thranduil ordered them burned. Obviously, they found something of worth-several of the horses bore bundles made out of tied up lengths of tent canvas. Well, good for his father. The men were perfectly willing to take from him, after all.

Legolas looked back at Thranduil. Demil's elaborate sword and scabbard were bound to his pack. Legolas stared at them several moments before remembering that he was supposed to be on guard for Demil's brothers. And their swords.

A wood thrush called from a hundred or so paces in front of them.

Everyone searched for it.

As he expected, since there were no wood thrushes in the middle of an open plain, Legolas saw an elf rise from the grass in the distance. His heart raced and continued to do so even after Legolas saw the elf was waving at them and he recognized him as Lanthir. He took a long, slow breath in an effort to master himself as Conuion signaled for Lanthir to join them.

"What are you doing here?" Conuion and Thranduil asked Lanthir, in unison, when he reached them. He fell into step between their horses.

"Keeping watch," Lanthir answered. "We have camped for the night in the mannish settlement, hoping to find more of Manadhien's servants."

"We?" Conuion and Thranduil asked, again speaking over one another.

"More of Manadhien's servants?" Legolas thought and he urged his horse to a faster pace to close the distance between himself and Lanthir.

Lanthir, meanwhile, seemed to catch on to his captain and king's impatience. "Maidhien came and told the queen that her father left, against your orders, my lord..." he began, intending to relate the entire story quickly.

Thranduil's eyes flew open wide. "Please tell me that I am not going to find Lindomiel in those ruins," he said.

Legolas held his breath, waiting for Lanthir's answer.

The guard quickly shook his head. "No, my lord. She remains in the stronghold..."

Legolas released his breath and so did Thranduil.

"...but she questioned Eregeth and Dolwon and she persuaded Dolwon to reveal the location of this settlement. He said Manadhien's servants occasionally met with enemies here, so the queen ordered us-Ferinil, Heledir, and myself-to come look for them. To arrest them and try to find out more about Legolas's whereabouts if we could."

"You would not know Manadhien or her servants, other than Demil," Conuion observed.

"No sir," Lanthir replied. "So she asked Lord Celonhael to come with us," he said, gesturing towards the settlement. Celonhael was now in plain view, striding quickly towards them, eyes fixed on Legolas.

Legolas stopped listening and took another long, slow breath, this time trying not to...well, he was ashamed to admit it, even to himself, but, trying not to become too emotional. Fear had fueled him and kept him focused while he was with the elves and men; numbness had claimed him for most of the long day's ride since he had escaped; but now, seeing Celonhael, somehow it finally registered that this nightmare was over and exhaustion, such as he had never known, pressed onto him, stealing even his ability to maintain control over himself. He drew another, shuddering breath as he slid down from his horse to greet his uncle.

"You found them," Celonhael said, passing Thranduil with no more acknowledgment than a nod. "Thank the Valar." He stopped, standing just in front of Legolas, looking him up and down slowly, his expression more and more grief stricken as he did.

Celonhael was not seeing them at their worst as he took in the bandages on Legolas's arms and the bruises that marred his face. Legolas was at least wearing a clean shirt-a spare that his father had in his pack. It completely concealed the worst of his injuries, now also swathed in bandages. Anastor, Dannenion and Tulus were all wearing clean shirts as well that they had taken from the men's packs. At least none of them was covered in blood. Of course, Legolas did not doubt his uncle could figure out why they all needed fresh clothes.

Legolas glanced at Anastor as he dismounted and his breath caught. Anastor looked awful. Given his uncle's expression, Legolas was sure that he looked no better.

Celonhael placed his hands lightly on Legolas's shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "Tell me what injuries I will aggravate if..." He lifted a hand and made as if to embrace him.

Legolas knew it would hurt, but he did not care. He stepped into his uncle's arms and put his own around his waist hugging him as he did when he was a child. Celonhael returned the embrace gingerly. After a moment, Legolas felt Celonhael lift an arm and take a small step to the side. Anastor also wrapped his arms around Celonhael.

A faint smile found its way to Legolas's lips. Celonhael was always the adult all his cousins felt completely free to speak to, confess to, look to for advice...or comfort. Even Anastor and Noruil had come to recognize and appreciate his compassion.

"Oh Anastor, what has happened to your adar?" Celonhael whispered.

Over Celonhael's shoulder, Legolas saw Dannenion, leaning heavily on Pendurion, walking into the camp, to be propped up near the fire against a hastily made pile of packs.

"Pendurion says he will survive," was all Anastor answered, voice muffled against Celonhael's shoulder. He voice broke over the words.

"Yes," Celonhael said, with the assurance of one who had fought since the First Battle, "he will, certainly. But he should not have suffered it and you should not have seen it." Then he added in a whisper, "I pray that is the worst you have seen, but I fear that it is not."

Legolas thought it was possible that seeing his father so gravely wounded was, for Anastor, the worst of their experiences-even worse than Balchthor's intentions, since he was not successful in carrying them out. Dannenion's injury would certainly be the worst Legolas had seen as well, if only...

Celonhael pulled them a bit closer, whispering something in a comforting tone.

Shifting slightly to relieve the pressure on his wound, Legolas did not really focus on his uncle's words. Instead, he was seeing Demil's blood, as he had so many times already throughout their ride towards the forest. Celonhael was, indeed, the uncle they had always confessed to. Whenever he and his cousins had done anything particularly bad, something that would truly earn their parents' wrath, they always went to Celonhael first, counting on him to remain calm and then to help them tell Thranduil, Aradunnon and Golwon. Celonhael had rarely lost his temper with them and, even on the rare occasions when he did, he always quickly controlled himself.

Even so, Legolas could not imagine how he would tell Celonhael what he had done. Uncle Celonhael was so gentle and kind. What would he think!? Even his father, who had seen and done exactly the same deed, was shocked when he realized what Legolas had done. Legolas found himself suddenly very relieved that his father had seen it, so no confession was required there.

"You arrested Fuilin and Mauril?" Thranduil's voice boomed, pulling Legolas immediately back to the present again and away from thoughts of Demil. "Where are they?" he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously low.

As one, Legolas and Anastor tore away from Celonhael to hear that answer from whomever the king was speaking to. It was Heledir. He had followed Celonhael out of the settlement. He was now pointing and explaining that they had found Fuilin and Mauril returning to the forest as they were crossing the plain in search of the settlement. Legolas looked in the direction he indicated and saw two solid posts in the stockade where Fuilin and another elf were bound.

Legolas heard Anastor's knife slide out of its sheath and turned towards him in time to see him run to the stockade.

Legolas ran after him.

He caught up to him towering over Fuilin. "No, Anastor!" he yelled, grabbing him by the wrist as he held his knife in Fuilin's face. Legolas stepped between them and bodily pushed Anastor back.

"Out of my way!" Anastor shouted. "You had yours. This one is mine." He pushed against Legolas, tearing at the wound on his chest.

"Some help!" Legolas called, looking at the King's Guard over Anastor's shoulder as he grappled with him. They-all eight of them-had followed Legolas and Anastor and were now standing in a semi-circle around them. Watching. So was Thranduil. And Celonhael. "Now!" Legolas demanded.

With a frown, Conuion stepped forward and obeyed. He grasped Anastor's shoulders and pulled him back a step.

Legolas put both hands on Anastor's chest. "The king will judge them. Not us," he said, fixing Anastor with a stern glare.

Anastor nodded, but not to show compliance. "Will he?" he asked. He took a step to the side, to have an unobstructed view of Fuilin, but he was still held in place by Conuion's grasp on his shoulders and Legolas's hands on his chest. "Very well, but let us speed him on his way to justice, slung over the back of one of those horses," he thrust a finger behind himself, in the general direction of the mannish horses. "Or perhaps dragged behind one." He burst past Legolas. Legolas spun and grabbed his wrist again, but Anastor did not seem to notice. Instead he raised his free hand. "But I do not think the king will begrudge me just little justice of my own." With that, he back handed Fuilin with all his might and stood over him, breathing hard, waiting for him to turn to face him again.

"Enough, Anastor," Legolas cried, pushing Anastor back again. "He is defenseless. Are you better than them or as evil as them?" he whispered.

Behind him, Fuilin laughed. From the corner of his eye, Legolas saw a black look claim his father.

"It is easy for you to say," Anastor retorted, glaring over Legolas's shoulder at Fuilin. "You had your revenge. You got Demil. I want mine. Fuilin is mine. One for you. One for me. It is fair."

Legolas shook his head. "You do not want that, Anastor. Trust me," he said in a low voice, meant only for Anastor.

Anastor looked away, nodding, with an odd expression that Legolas could not read.

Meanwhile, confusion erupted around them.

"What does Anastor mean, Thranduil?" Celonhael was whispering, a look of horror on his face.

"Where is Demil?" Fuilin demanded.

"Where is my brother?" the other elf-Mauril, apparently-shouted. Legolas felt someone kick his calf. Hard. Hard enough to buckle his leg. He would have fallen had he not been holding on to Anastor's shoulders, holding him back.

Conuion took a step towards the prisoners, but stopped when Tulus drew his sword and held it against Mauril's throat. "Touch him again and I will take great pleasure in doing what I should have done long ago." He paused and pressed his sword more firmly into soft flesh, drawing a line of blood. Then he kicked Mauril's outstretched leg. "Do it. Give me reason," he snarled.

"Tulus, step back," Legolas ordered.

Tulus did not move.

"Tulus, step back," he repeated.

Tulus loosed a long breath and lowered his sword. He remained towering over Mauril and Fuilin.

"Where is my brother?" Fuilin asked again, looking at Legolas.

"Dead," Legolas answered. "We burned his body along with those of the men."

Fuilin laughed, shaking his head. "You expect me to believe that you killed my brother? You barely know how to hold a sword. You are barely old enough to manage to draw one..."

"And Demil was killing elves three Ages of this world ago in the Blessed Realm. Yes, he reminded me," Legolas answered back, his voice cold. "In a pathetic attempt to frighten me. It did not work. The evidence is before your eyes. I am here. Demil is not."

"You are lying. You could not possibly best my brother," Fuilin insisted, this time not sounding quite as certain.

"Legolas never lies," Anastor intervened. "And your brother was not particularly skilled with a sword. The Second Years in the Training Program are taught to look for consistent mistakes that an opponent makes. Your brother consistently assumed Legolas would not take advantage of the opportunity to make a killing blow. That was a mistake." He paused and leaned into Fuilin's face. "Legolas lured him into believing that and then put a sword straight through him. Demil was a fool. Just as you are a fool. He deserved what he got." Anastor straightened and shoved his knife back in his sheath. "We will see what the king judges you deserve." With that, he turned and walked away.

"You are the fool, Anastor. Just like your father. If you cannot be taught that, perhaps your sister can be," Fuilin called after him.

Anastor spun around, reaching again for his knife.

Legolas's eyes narrowed as he debated with himself if he would stop Anastor this time. If he had a sister and anyone threatened her... But Anastor was forestalled by Thranduil.

The king stepped forward, drawing his own sword. He pressed the tip of it against the center of Fuilin's chest.

Legolas stopped breathing and his gaze fixed on his father's blade.

"You dare to threaten my daughter?" he asked, voice low. "My foster son's betrothed wife? You will never touch her, or any other member of my family, ever again."

Thranduil began to lean forward on the hilt of his sword.

"My lord, I beg you," Celonhael intervened in a quiet voice. "Think about what you want Legolas to see. In addition to everything else he has been forced to see. And do."

Thranduil turned a withering glare on Celonhael and then glanced at Legolas.

So many emotions raced through him at the moment that Legolas could not even identify them all himself. He could not imagine what his face must be showing. Whatever it was, Thranduil froze. With obvious difficulty, he took a small step back and dragged his sword to the side.

"Now or later, Celonhael," he muttered. "The end will be the same. But I concede, later might serve us all better." He looked back at Fuilin and leveled his sword at his face. "Keep your tongue still, lest I still it permanently, here and now." He turned his back and walked away.

Fuilin remained silent.

Anastor glared at him a moment longer and then followed Thranduil.

Legolas's gaze passed from Anastor, to Thranduil and finally to Fuilin. Celonhael stepped between them, put his arm around Legolas's shoulders, and led him silently back towards the fire.

* * *

Anastor stormed to the fire and kicked the largest log in it-one of the stockade posts, from the shape of it. Sparks rose into the air. Cowardly dogs. He cast a glance at Fuilin, now talking quietly to whoever the other elf was. That was more than he and Legolas had been allowed to do. Anastor tore his gaze away from them. Legolas would only stop him again if he went back over to them. It was only then that he noticed his father, sitting next to the fire. He was awake! Relief washed over him and he made to kneel next to him. To ask him how he felt or if he wanted anything. But then another question occurred to him and he stopped himself, staring down at his father instead.

"How are you involved in all this, adar?" he demanded, hands on his hips as he stood over his father. "How do these elves know you? And me and Maidhien?"

Dannenion made a face, although not with his typical dramatics, and looked away. "It is none of your concern."

Anastor leaned forward and took a step to the side to remain in his father's field of vision. "None of my concern! I have had a knife held to my throat. I rode like a sack over Demil's horse. I have been sold as a slave. I have been dragged behind a horse. I have been threatened with...I do not even want to speculate what that man intended to do. I had to kill a man and fight an elf to escape. And you are going to try to tell me that it is not my concern?" Anastor shook his head. "No. It is definitely my concern. Tell me why you knew where this settlement is when the king did not. Tell me why those elves called me by name when they took us and said they intended to make you pay for being a traitor. How could you be a traitor to them? That implies you know them. How do you know people of that sort? They are..." he struggled for a description.

"They are consumed by the Shadow, Anastor," Thranduil said quietly, coming to join him at the fire. Legolas and Celonhael were with him.

Anastor nodded and looked back at his father. "Exactly! They are just like orcs. That is exactly what I was thinking when I listened to them baiting Legolas about how they intended to make Thranduil suffer. They enjoy causing misery. It is...despicable. How could you possibly know them so well that they want to hurt you?"

Dannenion closed his eyes and his head hung so low that his chin rested on his chest. "Please do not ask me that," he whispered.

"I have the right to know," Anastor replied, his voice raised.

Dannenion remained silent. He remained silent for so long that Legolas took a step towards Anastor, to try to lead him off-to distract him in some way.

Well, Anastor did not intend to go anywhere. He wanted answers! He shrugged off Legolas's hand and was about to tell him to leave him alone, when his father looked up. Tears welled in his eyes. Anastor took a step back in shock.

"I brought this..." Dannenion said, his voice rough. "I caused it..."

"How?" Anastor asked, fear creeping up his spine, making it tingle, until his heart raced with it. He was suddenly more afraid of this answer than he had been at any point with the elves or men.

"Anastor," Thranduil intervened. "You do have the right to these answers. I do not deny that. But this is a complicated topic, this is the worst possible time for you to be forced to confront it, and your adar is badly injured. It would be best if you give him, and yourself, some time to recover and then he can explain it all to you."

Anastor shook his head. "You tell me then. You know. I know that you do. You told Maidhien. I know that because she told me that you told her something about adar and she cannot say what. I know it has something to do with this. It must." He turned to Legolas. "Or you tell me. Tell me what you refused to tell me when Demil and Fuilin had us. Now!"

Legolas's brows drew together. "It is complicated, as adar said..."

"It is not going to be less complicated later! Tell me now!" Anastor insisted, taking a step towards Legolas.

"I conspired with Fuilin and his brothers," Dannenion said.

Anastor spun back around to face him.

"And when I refused to continue to conspire with them, they threatened my family. What they did to you, they did to punish me."

"How did you conspire with them? What does that mean?" Anastor asked.

"Conspiring is plotting, Anastor," Legolas said softly.

Anastor rolled his eyes to look back at Legolas. "I know what conspire means. What does it mean that adar conspired with those elves?"

"I conspired with them to overthrow Thranduil," Dannenion said, without looking up.

Anastor's eyes flew open wide and his jaw dropped. He knew his father did not like Thranduil but... His father had always been extremely critical of Thranduil... Antagonistic towards him... Maidhien called him hateful. To his face. And she knew... Anastor's gaze darted between Thranduil and his father. His father conspired with those elves to overthrow Thranduil. To overthrow Thranduil. How do you overthrow a king? Kill him? No, his father would never... Remove him forcibly? There was not much difference between that and...surely his father would not do that either. And besides, the elves that lived around the stronghold would never tolerate that. They loved Thranduil. They would fight for him until the last elf fell. So how do you plot to overthrow a king? Make him leave? Make him want to leave? Suddenly, the pieces fell together and Anastor turned back to Legolas. You sell his son to men to drive him to grief and make him want to leave. That is what you do!

"You refused to help them take Legolas, so to punish you, they took me too?" Anastor asked, fearing to have his guess confirmed.

Dannenion spun towards Thranduil, shaking his head and struggling to stand. Thranduil reached to hold him in place. "No! I swear! I swear before Eru himself-I had nothing to do with this and I had no idea it was going to happen. I swear I would have told you. I would have asked for your help to prevent it. I swear it."

"I believe you, Dannenion," Thranduil assured him quickly.

"Then how did you conspire to overthrow Thranduil with these elves?" Anastor asked, thoroughly confused.

Dannenion sagged against the packs again, his eyes closed. He made no response.

"May I tell him, Dannenion?" Legolas asked quietly.

Dannenion remained silent. Then, after a long moment, he nodded once.

Anastor turned to Legolas, eyebrows raised.

"This began, and should have been over, before either of us was born, Anastor. And your adar has not been a part of it for a long time," Legolas said, with a glance at Thranduil. Anastor looked at him as well. He wore that look he had when he was mad and trying not to show it. Anastor had seen that often enough when getting into trouble with Legolas and his cousins. "You adar and some others..."

"I was one of them," Tulus interjected.

"And your uncle," Dannenion added. His voice sounded a little bitter.

"They were cozened by that elleth that I mentioned to you-Manadhien, do you remember?"

"The one you said has been after your adar for Ages."

Legolas nodded. "She persuaded them that adar was not doing what he should to protect the forest from the Shadow, so he should be removed. Your adar and uncle and Tulus thought they were doing what is best for the forest. They did not know Manadhien's only real goal is to hurt adar. At any rate, they planned to drive adar to abdicate either through threats or through grief by abducting my naneth."

He was right! His father had intended to drive the king to abdicate. He stared at his father, unable to breath. No matter how bad Thranduil was, and Anastor did not think he was really all that bad...a little strict, certainly... but he was not so terrible...

"They were caught, confessed and have served their punishments," Legolas continued his story. "But apparently Manadhien has now turned against them too. She and her servants are at fault here..."

"To abduct your naneth?" Anastor interrupted, as that detail finally registered in his mind. "To have her abducted? By Men? That time you told us about? When Dark Men attacked her and your aunt and you and Galithil...and killed your guards...when you were a baby?" Anastor's voice rose with each question. His father could not have been part of that. It was not possible. That would mean he had participated, not refused to participate... He stared at Legolas, waiting for his answer.

Legolas's jaw worked, clenching. But he finally nodded.

Anastor felt his heart plummet into his stomach and he thought he might be sick. He spun back around to his father. "You? You conspired to do this?" he asked, while sweeping a hand across his various injuries. "To two ellyth? To Lindomiel? And you wanted men to... Do you know what those men said they would do to us? If they had ellyth!" Anastor fell silent and looked side long at Legolas. "I remember you saying your naneth was hurt. It is not possible that..."

"She was injured by an arrow," Legolas said quickly. "Adar found her soon afterwards."

"And you were there? You and Galithil? You saw it? You remember it?"

Legolas sighed. "Yes," he admitted.

"You did that?" Anastor asked, again yelling at his father.

Dannenion's eyes were tightly shut. "I did that," he whispered.

Anastor stared down at him. "You are despicable!" he spat. He turned his back to his father and looked at Legolas. "I cannot imagine how you could even speak to me, much less be my friend all these years, knowing what my family did," he said. Then he stalked away.


	6. What you were forced to do

**Chapter 6: What you were forced to do**

Legolas and Thranduil sat in front of the cottage where Maethorness had housed the king and his party while they stopped in her village. They were watching the sun rise. Whenever he and Thranduil hunted together, Legolas always joined in his father's morning ritual, viewing the sunrise filtered through green leaves. Here, on the forest border, Legolas saw, for the first time, Arien climbing over the very edge of Arda.

"It has been a very long time since I have seen the sunrise in that way," Thranduil said, echoing Legolas's thoughts.

"How long?" Legolas could not resist asking.

Thranduil paused, thinking. Then he frowned. "Since we returned from the war in Mordor, I suppose."

Legolas stifled a sigh. His father's mood had been very black during the entire journey home and throughout their conversation this morning. As they watched the sunrise, Thranduil had questioned Legolas on all that happened while he was in Fuilin's company. Legolas was relieved that his father had avoided the topic of the man's company, and he was surprised that he did not ask for more details about their capture, but it suited Legolas perfectly well that he did not, because there were aspects of that part of this incident that he wanted to discuss with Tulus before being interrogated by the king.

The reason for Thranduil's interest in Fuilin, specifically, became obvious when Celonhael emerged from the cottage. At his appearance, Thranduil stood. Conuion also arose from where he was leaning against a tree. "Ready?" Thranduil asked Celonhael.

Celonhael nodded and together they stepped off the cottage's small porch and onto the grass. Conuion followed them without a word, but at a much closer distance than he normally did. Legolas watched them, unable to imagine what business his father might have this early in the morning in Maethorness's village. His confusion cleared when they turned towards the village's root cellar, where Lanthir stood, guarding Fuilin and Mauril's makeshift prison.

"Are you going to speak to Fuilin?" Legolas called, finally standing himself.

"Yes," Thranduil replied without turning or even slowing his pace.

Legolas jogged after them. "I want to hear this," he said, drawing up next to his father.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and adopted his 'No' expression, preparing to speak.

Legolas forestalled him. "I have the right to know who he is, why he did this and anything else you hope to find out. I am clearly now a target in whatever revenge Manadhien intends to extract from you," he argued.

"Very well," Thranduil conceded as they approached Lanthir. The guard reached for the keys to the cellar door that Maethorness had entrusted to him. "Feel free to leave if this...conversation grows too difficult, but if you stay, remain silent."

Legolas's eyebrows rose and he looked from his father to his uncle. Celonhael was uncharacteristically grim as Lanthir pulled open the door.

The root cellar was large. And dark. It was completely unlit, save by the sunlight that entered through the open door, and much of that was blocked as they walked, single file, Conuion first, down a dozen earthen stairs into a small room. Four locked doors lined its walls, two on the back wall and one on each side. Fuilin and Mauril leaned against one of the doors on the back wall. They were squinting and trying to push themselves up to stand. Hands bound behind them, it was a challenging task and one that was destined to fail. Fuilin was just managing to rise from his knees when Conuion shoved him back down roughly. Thranduil stood over him.

"Have they been given anything to eat?" Thranduil asked, directing himself to Lanthir, who stood, sword drawn, at the top of the stairs.

"Last night, but not yet this morning, my lord," he answered.

"Tell whoever brings them breakfast to come back later. I do not want this conversation disturbed. And either leave the door open or send for someone to bring a lamp."

Yes, my lord," Lanthir responded. He did not move. He remained in the open doorway of the cellar, facing the prisoners and the king.

Thranduil did not seem to notice. He was entirely focused on Fuilin.

Fuilin returned his gaze with an unconcerned, almost dismissive, one of his own. "If you think to cow me with a night of darkness, you are a fool," he said. "I have suffered the depths of Angband. Your little cellar impresses me not at all."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "You are confusing your own motivations with mine, Fuilin. I had no intention of harming you when I imprisoned you here. I merely wanted to ensure that you cannot escape." He paused to draw Fuilin's attention. When he continued, his voice was dangerously low. "I want some answers from you before I send you to Mandos to answer for your crimes."

Legolas had to stop himself from openly reacting to his father's last statement. He simply turned to him as one might look at any person who is speaking, but silently he searched his father's expression for some indication of how serious he was. Surely he did not intend to execute Fuilin. It was one thing to react violently when provoked. It was an entirely different thing to give thought to such an act and then carry it out.

Fuilin smiled at him. "How may I help you, lord?" he asked with exaggerated politeness.

Legolas snorted quietly. Perhaps Thranduil expected to be provoked to violence during this interview and that is why he seemed so certain that Fuilin would soon be judged by Namo. Legolas did not doubt that if he addressed his father in such a smug manner, it might elicit the sort of response that Thranduil did not normally employ.

"You can start by telling me who else was involved in this latest attempt against my family," Thranduil replied, ignoring Fuilin's attitude.

"As always, I act upon the orders of my mistress." Fuilin answered.

"We will discuss Manadhien at length in a moment. Who else aided you? How did you learn about the drill Legolas and Anastor were participating in? Who were the elves that were with Demil when he captured Legolas and Anastor and with you when you sold them to men?"

Those elves were the topic that had concerned Thranduil the most during their morning conversation. The idea that Manadhien had more servants, besides Fuilin and his brothers - servants that were willing to kill! That was alarming news. Legolas could provide little information about them, besides a basic description and the one name he had heard Demil use.

Fuilin said nothing in response to those questions.

Thranduil's hands balled into fists and he took a step closer to Fuilin, standing directly over him. He lifted a foot and planted it on Fuilin's chest, pinning him down and back against the door behind him. Then he leaned over, shifting his weight to that foot and speaking into Fuilin's face. "I will not play with you, Fuilin. I am finishing this. Now. I want to know who aided you. I know one of them is named Lagril. What is the other elf's name? How long have they served Manadhien? And where can I find them?"

"Pelin is the other name," Fuilin said. "He and Lagril began their service to our lady before my brothers and I began ours. And where they are now, I do not know." By the time he finished speaking, his voice broke as he ran out of air.

Thranduil did not release him. Instead, he studied him with obvious skepticism.

"Either you want answers or you do not," Fuilin choked out, looking irritated. "But if I give them and you do not believe them, what is the point of this?"

"How long have you served Manadhien?" Thranduil asked, still not moving.

"Since her lord father and I escaped from Angband together," he answered, reduced to whispering.

"What was her father's name?"

"Ulcamarto," Fuilin managed.

Thranduil lifted his foot from Fuilin's chest and watched him as he took a quiet, but deep breath.

Fuilin turned to Legolas. "And all I did was allow Demil to slap you and Anastor a few times. At least I did not try to crush the breath from you."

Legolas only realized how large his eyes had become when he narrowed them to glare at Fuilin. "Of course there was that small matter of you selling us to a man," Legolas answered back, disregarding Thranduil's order to remain silent. "Which you obviously had no right to do. The king, on the other hand, has every right to question prisoners who commit crimes in his realm."

Thranduil glanced at Legolas and then turned to Celonhael. "Marto, I know. What does 'ulca' mean?"

Celonhael shook his head. "I do not know, my lord. I had no interest in that language."

"It means evil," Legolas said, still glaring at Fuilin.

Thranduil spun around to look at him. "How would you know that?" he asked with obvious shock.

"I can read Quenya," Legolas answered, tearing his gaze from Fuilin to meet his father's scowl.

"Rodonon and I will be having a conversation when we return to the stronghold," Thranduil muttered. Then he turned back to Fuilin. "I am supposed to believe that a father named his son Ulcamarto? Even the Noldor are not that cruel."

Fuilin shrugged. "It is the name my lord gave me when we met in Angband and the name I addressed him by until his death."

"And what were your lord's grievances against me?" Thranduil asked. "What would drive his daughter to wish to kill every member of my household?"

Fuilin shook his head, affecting an aggrieved expression. "Do you not see that the offenses you have committed are all the worse because you cannot even remember them? All the more hurtful because what you did so lightly was so devastating to another?" He asked that question with all apparent sincerity.

"What I see," Thranduil answered, voice taut with anger, "is that you, your brothers and your mistress have been driven insane by whatever perceived offenses that I-or my adar, or both of us-committed. Or, more likely, if you truly were held in Angband, perhaps that experience drove you insane. But only insanity can explain your actions against me. You have abducted my wife and my son. You killed my wife's parents. No sane elf could conceive of such deeds, much less act upon them. Who else, besides this Lagril and Pelin aided you? I assume Dannenion did not, given that you sought to injure him, along with me. Did Dolwon aid you? Glilavan? Tulus?"

Legolas drew a sharp breath when his father named Tulus.

"Yes," Fuilin replied, easily. "All of them but Glilavan, at any rate. He is not involved unless he is helping his adar in someway that Tulus has not mentioned to us."

"You are lying," Legolas interrupted him. He stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Thranduil, leaning over Fuilin.

Thranduil made a slashing gesture with his hand, demanding silence. He remained focused on Fuilin.

Fuilin continued without pause. "Dannenion had been helping us right along, up until Demil was exiled. Then the fool broke with us and forced us to show him the error of his ways."

"How?" Thranduil pressed. "How have Dannenion, Dolwon, and Tulus been aiding you?"

"By sending us information on troop deployments, Legolas's travels, Lindomiel's travels. Anything we ask for, really. Between Dannenion, Dolwon and Tulus, they have access to nearly every part of the stronghold and all the information we could want."

"Tulus does, at any rate," Thranduil said under his breath, but standing over Fuilin, there was no possibility he would go unheard.

Fuilin nodded. "True enough. Since you exiled Demil, you also did a fair job of securing information. It has been much more difficult for us to obtain what we needed. Especially since Dannenion stopped cooperating. But we managed, as you can see. We can thank Tulus for that."

"You are lying," Legolas repeated. "Tulus would not betray me. If he intended to, why would he fight Lagril and Pelin? Why would he come after me?"

"Why would he be alive if he was not one of our allies? We killed the Sixth Years. Why not kill Tulus if he was not useful to us?"

"If he is useful to you, why betray him now?" Legolas countered.

"I am not going to my death alone," Fuilin answered. "If I die because Tulus made a mistake and failed to retrieve you from Balchthor, I will not be the only one to pay for his failure."

"You sent Demil to ensure that Dannenion did not retrieve us," Legolas said.

"And to ensure that Tulus did," Fuilin concluded.

Legolas drew a breath to respond, but remained silent when Thranduil grasped his forearm tightly, pulling him back a step.

"Why would you want Tulus to take Legolas back from the men?" Thranduil asked.

"There are many groups of men to get a sack of gold from," Fuilin answered. "Why not get one from as many as I can until they catch on?"

Thranduil remained silent, considering Fuilin.

"My lord, these are lies," Legolas whispered. "I would stake my life on it."

"You already have," Thranduil answered without looking at him. "Prove it," he said to Fuilin. "Show me evidence that Tulus gave you reports on Legolas's movements. Or tell me where I can find evidence."

"Gladly," Fuilin agreed quickly. "There is a strongbox, made of metal, in the hearth of the main building in the mannish ruins. You will find a stone loose in the hearth and the box hidden behind it. Inside that box are letters that Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon sent us. I will take you to find them."

"And luring us back to those ruins could not possibly be a trap planned in advance in case you were captured," Celonhael said softly.

"A trap there is no possibility I will fall into," Thranduil replied. "One more question Fuilin: where is your mistress?"

Fuilin drew himself up and his mocking expression evaporated, replaced by one of cold determination. "That is something that you will never learn from me. Or my brother. Even if you cut us apart piece by piece."

Thranduil looked down upon him for a long moment, resting his right hand on the handle of the knife at his waist. "Tempting," he finally said softly. "But that is the one statement that you have made that I believe to be a wholly honest one." He turned and strode back up the stairs without another word.

Fuilin's laughter echoed in the root cellar.

Legolas remained standing over him, now sorely tempted to silence Fuilin himself with a solid smack.

"My lord?" Conuion said softly.

Legolas forced himself to turn away and follow his father and uncle, taking the stairs by twos to catch up to them.

* * *

Thranduil walked straight from the root cellar to the cottage and opened its door forcefully enough to make it rebound against the wall.

"Where is Dannenion?" he asked as soon as he scanned the room and saw only his own guards. The cot Dannenion had slept in was empty.

"With the healer, my lord," Heledir answered cautiously. "She said she intended to close his injuries this morning. Tulus persuaded Anastor to go with his father, and went himself, under the pretense of having the healer evaluate their wounds as well."

"Clear this room," Thranduil ordered. "Conuion, you may stay. Legolas, you may also, if you can manage to control yourself this time." He stalked over to the small dining table in the cottage and sat in one of its chairs as the guards hurried through the open door.

"My lord, Fuilin is lying," Legolas said, sitting next to his father without hesitation and ignoring his admonition.

"His version of the events obviously does not make sense," Celonhael agreed, seating himself on Thranduil's opposite side.

"I would also be very surprised if Tulus had betrayed Legolas," Conuion added. "Though Fuilin seemed very convinced that we would find proof in those ruins."

Celonhael shook his head. "That is a trap. Again, one so obvious that no one would fall into it."

"Which makes one wonder if it is a trap," Thranduil interjected. "Their plans are normally fairly sophisticated. Luring us into an obvious trap does not fit their typical schemes. I think we might find something in those ruins. How reliable it might be can only be judged after seeing it."

"I will send two guards to search for this box," Conuion said. "I will warn them, unnecessarily, to be cautious. We will see if they find anything."

"They will find nothing to incriminate Tulus," Legolas said. "Glilavan, on the other hand..." he left that statement hanging.

Thranduil sighed and finally looked at him. "Legolas, you are determined to defend Tulus and that is clouding your perception of what we heard. It is perfectly obvious that Fuilin excluded Glilavan from his accusations because he is the one member of their conspiracy that Fuilin hopes to be able to salvage. And I doubt that we will find a single person in this forest that has ever heard the names Lagril or Pelin-or, if we do, the people with those names will not have the same faces you remember seeing with Demil. Fuilin is as loyal to his mistress's plots as you are to your guard. He would not betray anyone that is still useful to her. He gave up Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon, so clearly they no longer are associated with her. But the question remains, for how long have they refused to serve her? I can easily believe that Dannenion and Dolwon sent her the information Fuilin named until they learned she murdered your grandparents. When that happened, Dannenion's attitude towards me changed noticably. But Tulus? Well, I will withhold my judgment of him until I see the contents of this box, if it exists..."

"If it does, and if something incriminating Tulus is found in it, there has to be another explanation for how it got there," Legolas said.

"Then Tulus can explain it to me and I will listen to him," Thranduil replied. "But you will learn to control yourself. I am not discussing Tulus, Dannenion or Dolwon at this moment. Do not interrupt the conversation that I intend to have another time or I will ask you to leave. Understood?"

Legolas looked down, biting his lip. "Yes, my lord," he replied promptly.

"One more warning before we move on: you will not breath a word of Fuilin's accusations to Tulus before I have a chance to speak to him. Is that also clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Legolas replied, equally promptly, though with more regret.

Thranduil nodded.

"What about guarding Legolas in the meantime, my lord?" Conuion asked.

"Assign Belloth to Legolas and tell Tulus the change is due to the fact that his injuries prevent him from adequately fulfilling his duty," Thranduil answered, silencing Legolas's protests with a glare. "But before you speak to Belloth, and the guards that you will send after that box, I would value your opinion on the topic I want to discuss. So please stay a moment longer."

"As you wish, my lord," Conuion responded, eyebrows rising slightly.

Thranduil leaned against the back of his chair. "We will set Dannenion, Dolwon, Tulus and Glilavan aside for the moment," he began quietly. "But there is no doubt that Fuilin is guilty of abducting Legolas and Anastor, of causing them bodily harm and of selling them to men, something that could only be expected to result in their eventual deaths. And, since this is not the first time Fuilin tried something like this, it is clear that he and Mauril, who Dannenion, Dolwon and Tulus all confirm participated in the plot against the queen, are a persistent threat to this realm and to our family. I judge them guilty of treason and when we return to the stronghold, I will announce that in a public trial. The question is: what will I do with them?"

Celonhael dropped his gaze to his lap in response to that question.

"You implied to Fuilin that it is a foregone conclusion that you will execute them," Legolas said, his throat constricting around the words.

Thranduil nodded. "I confess that is an option that I am considering," he whispered.

Legolas released a relieved breath to learn that his father had not already made that choice. And that he appeared so very uncomfortable considering it. Killing Fuilin was not a decision he felt he could support, now more than ever, since he had a much clearer understanding of such an act.

"My lord, it is unthinkable," Celonhael said firmly, still looking down. "There has to be another way to deal with them."

"I tried exiling Demil. I had him escorted past the edges of the Wilds. We see what that accomplished," Thranduil replied.

Legolas reluctantly nodded. "Fuilin said they spent years looking for him. Demil said they chose to give Anastor and I to men rather than to kill us outright in the interest exacting a revenge similar to the crime committed against them, as they see your decision."

Thranduil snorted. "They are utterly twisted in evil. Irredeemable."

"Imprison them, my lord," Celonhael suggested. "Lock them in a storeroom in the stronghold and leave them there."

"That is also a possibility that I am considering," Thranduil answered.

Celonhael leaned towards him. "Far better to hold them in a cell than to have their blood on your hands, my lord."

"Is it, Celonhael? If being held in Angband is what twisted their hearts so, would repeating such cruelty be better than death? Personally, I think I would prefer a quick death to a lingering one, waiting to fade while locked away from the sun and the free air."

"What they have done is an offense against the laws of the Eldar and the Valar. Killing them yourself would be the same offense," Celonhael said. "And you know better. Your own kin were slain. Before your eyes."

"Do you think that I do not remember that, uncle?" Thranduil snapped at him. "Now it is my duty to ensure that these elves, who have apparently slain my kin before, have no further opportunity to do so again."

"May I speak, my lord," Conuion asked. He had moved to the very edge of his chair as Celonhael and Thranduil argued.

"That is why I invited you to stay," Thranduil replied.

"Imprisoning them will be more difficult than it seems," Conuion said. "Someone will have to bring them their food and their bath. Someone will have to launder and repair their clothes and shoes. Someone will have to remove their waste. They will have to be exercised, unless you intend to kill them slowly. Every time we open their cell doors to accommodate these tasks, the guard and servant entering their cell will be at risk. Every time we open their cells, we risk the family in the stronghold, should they escape. I am not comfortable in the slightest with the idea of imprisoning them in the stronghold. If we must imprison them, I would prefer a remote location, with a separate set of guards dedicated to that duty."

Thranduil nodded. "I have though about those issues. Another question, if I choose to imprison them, is: for how long will I imprison them? A yen? Two? Ten? Until they fade? Until my entire family and I leave these shores? I have no intention of ever doing that. So, shall I imprison them forever? Even Morgoth had the hope of suing for pardon when he was imprisoned by the Valar. Shall I give Fuilin and Mauril the same hope and pray for a better outcome than the Valar received from Morgoth? I do not see how I can imprison them. It seems an impossible endeavor to hold an elf captive forever."

"Would it be more possible for you plunge your sword into their hearts or use it to remove their heads?" Celonhael asked. Thranduil said nothing, so he pressed the point. "Can you stand in the Great Hall, order them brought to you, bound, and execute them as your people and your family-your sons and wife-look on? I pray that you are not capable of such a deed. And if you are, I will forbid my son from watching it."

Thranduil closed his eyes. "I may have to be capable of it, whether I like it or not, if you-or someone-cannot give me an alternative. I am this realm's king, Celonhael. I am not exacting revenge for myself. I am administering justice for the protection of the people that I made an oath to serve. Fuilin's mistress is known to have plotted with orcs. She organized them to fight against the citizens of this realm-my family, certainly, but also our guards and warriors. I cannot allow Fuilin and Mauril to continue serving such a mistress-such evil-and endanger the people I am responsible to protect."

Celonhael loosed a long sigh. "I do not believe the people would want to be served in this manner, my lord," he said. "These are woodelves. They did not bear witness, as we did, to the evils in Menegroth and Sirion. They have never seen an elf kill an elf. Ever. Many of them do not even know the stories of such things happening in Beleriand, so they have never heard of an elf killing an elf. Do you want to be the person that introduces this sort of evil to them?"

"But I did not introduce this evil to this forest, Celonhael. Marti did it, when she killed Amglaur and Limmiel. How do you think the citizens of this realm will react when that becomes public knowledge? How do you think they will react upon hearing that Fuilin intended to kill Legolas? Legolas is very well loved amongst the people who know him around the stronghold. I think the people will expect a strong punishment. They are, as you said, woodelves."

"They will expect a strong punishment, I agree. But they have never conceived of death as being a possible sentence. Exile is what they will expect, until you explain why it is not practical. Imprisonment will be their next expectation. Possibly even forcing them to labor. But nothing more than that."

"If I gave Fuilin and Mauril over to labor amongst the elves that cut wood for the stronghold or dig the middens for the capital, for example, do you think they will return from those tasks unscathed? Even if I hold them in a cell in the stronghold, visited only by guards and servants, do you think none of those visitors will take advantage of the opportunity to teach Fuilin and Mauril a bit of a lesson in their own way. Honestly, Celonhael?"

Celonhael frowned. "No, I confess I do not."

"So I must guard Fuilin, who attempted to kill my son, so that he is not harmed himself?" Thranduil shook his head. "Or, I could prevent him from suffering - by killing him." He laughed bitterly. "This is an impossible decision." He both sounded and looked exhausted, though it was still early morning.

Celonhael looked at him sadly. "When Oropher asked us our opinions of the people's request that he become king, do you remember what my response was?"

Thranduil nodded. "You advised him not to accept that title. You told him that what he had known as member of the High King's court was far different from the responsibilities that the King himself must face. I remember your words very well. I have been taught their value-and true meaning-many times and this is certainly one of them," he said softly. "But there is nothing that I would not give of myself if I was convinced that it would serve or protect the people of this realm," he concluded firmly.

The room was silent for a long moment.

"You surely do not intend to make this decision now?" Celonhael finally asked.

"No. I will at least discuss it with the full council, and undoubtedly give it much more thought after that. Perhaps if I had given more time to considering Demil's fate, we might have avoided this particular incident. But I am faced with this decision, regardless of when I make it, and it is weighing on me. I wanted to hear your opinions now."

"Allow me to take them back to the stronghold, my lord," Celonhael suggested. "It will be a day, at least, before Dannenion is able to travel. With him, you will not be able to travel quickly. If I took a guard, I can have Fuilin and Mauril secured by this time tomorrow. At lease in the stronghold, we know who we can trust and who we cannot, largely speaking. Here, we have no idea who their allies are. And their presence exposes Legolas and Anastor to more danger."

"You want them out of my sight, so I will not be provoked into dealing with them immediately," Thranduil said.

Celonhael only nodded.

"I do not deny that is a good idea. And you are correct that it is far more likely that Manadhien's remaining servants-who unfortunately only Legolas, Anastor and Tulus can identify-will make an attempt to rescue them here rather than from the stronghold. Conuion, decide what guards you can spare to send with him."

"Thank you, my lord," Celonhael responded, standing.

Conuion did as well, nodding his acknowledgment of the king's request.

Thranduil watched them leave and then turned to Legolas, who remained seated at the table.

"Your thoughts?" he asked. "You were uncharacteristically quiet during this discussion."

Legolas shook his head. "It is far from my place to advise you on matters such as this," he said quickly. "I do not have the experience to do so."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, as much as it grieves me - and it grieves me deeply - you do have the experience to understand this decision."

Legolas had to make an effort to hold his father's gaze.

"Moreover, you are the injured party, Legolas. You and Anastor. I think I know Anastor's opinion, given his initial response to Fuilin. Though I doubt he has given his words or actions any consideration and he is still a child. He is also a woodelf. So perhaps Celonhael is wrong about how woodelves would react. What are your thoughts?"

"I do not know," he finally said. "I agree with Uncle Celonhael that executing them is unthinkable. It has never been done, save in a Noldorin court. Of course, Fuilin and Mauril are Noldor. And perhaps the reason death has never been considered as a sentence in a Sindarin or Silvan court is because no elf that killed a Sindarin or Silvan elf has ever been brought to justice. Also, I can see how imprisoning them would be difficult, as Conuion said. Dangerous even. But as for Anastor representing woodelves, consider his father and his influence on Anastor's judgments before drawing any conclusions on that subject."

A genuinely amused smile graced Thranduil's face in response to that comment.

Legolas smiled back at him, but shook his head. "I do not know," he repeated. "I agree with you that they are irredeemable, at least outside of Mandos Halls. But if they can be reformed there, I would not want you to be the one to send them there. I am sorry, adar. Sorry that I cannot see a better solution for this and sorry that you are faced with such a terrible decision."

Thranduil nodded and laid a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "Put this out of your mind. It is my burden, not yours. Go find Anastor and make sure that he is...as well as he can be, at any rate. Try to encourage him to spend some time with his father. Or at least keep him company yourself. Spend some time in the forest with him. But do not leave the village. And carry your weapons." He pointed a finger at Legolas. "I know you do not like Belloth, but mind him, just the same."

Legolas laughed at that last order. "I will, adar. Belloth will not hesitate to see to that." He stood and left Thranduil alone to contemplate Fuilin and Mauril's fates.

* * *

Thoughts swirled through Legolas's mind as he walked to the center of the village and asked one of the elves there which cottage belonged to the healer. He resolutely ignored Belloth, who followed him, mercifully, at the same distance that he followed the king. That was better than the last time Tulus had been away and Belloth took his place. Then, Belloth stood practically shoulder-to-shoulder with Legolas. Constantly.

Legolas made an effort to dismiss Belloth from his thoughts. He made an equal effort to not think about the decision his father faced. As he approached the healer's cottage, he saw Tulus sitting on its porch. Tulus was what Legolas wanted to think about. His guard stood in response to Legolas's approach and nodded to someone behind him-Belloth, presumably. Tulus would probably not look upon Belloth so amicably if he knew the true reasons he had been relieved of his duty. Legolas sighed. And he was forbidden to tell him. Well, he was not forbidden to discuss other topics with Tulus, and if that inspired his guard to confront this situation sooner rather than later, all the better.

"Tulus," Legolas greeted him, carefully leaving his back to where ever Belloth might be. Then he continued in a very soft voice. "I want to talk with you. Are there any other guards about, other than Belloth?"

"Not that I am aware of," Tulus responded.

Legolas scanned the surrounding area and his gaze settled on a little garden, with a bench in its center, in the middle of the village square. It was in a sunny clearing, with no trees near it. And if they walked straight towards the bench and sat on it, Belloth would have to come around from behind them to see their faces. He would have to come out of the trees to be close enough to hear them. If he did, Legolas would think of something else. "Come with me," he said, and he headed straight to the garden. Tulus followed. "Sit," Legolas ordered, seating himself.

Tulus sat, his expression now demanding an explanation. He was perfectly capable of understanding why Legolas had chosen this location to talk, especially after asking if anymore of the king's guards were in the area.

Legolas remained silent, waiting to see what Belloth would do. He apparently stayed in the trees. Legolas could not see him. Good, he thought and looked at his guard. "First, I want to tell you this: adar did not ask me anything-yet-about how Anastor and I were captured. About why we were together in the first place to be captured. When he does, I will have to tell him. If he does not ask, when he questions Glilavan about this incident-and there is no possibility that he will fail to do so-I will have to tell him then. When I tell him, adar is going to believe Glilavan made the changes he made to the drill in order to facilitate this attempt on my life. I believe that Glilavan was part of this attempt, Tulus. And Adar is going to be very suspicious of you, as well. He will believe you knew something." Legolas paused to make sure he had Tulus's attention. "I believe that also."

Legolas watched as Tulus stared at him and paled several shades. "My lord, I would never betray you or knowingly allow you to come to harm. You cannot believe that I would."

Legolas shook his head. "Allow it? No, I do not believe that. But you were suspicious of Glilavan's motivations for changing that drill. Too suspicious. You hesitated to allow me to participate in it."

"I was suspicious. And I should have listened to my own instincts. I regret not doing so more than you could possibly understand..."

"I understand fairly thoroughly, Tulus. I imagine you regret not listening to your instincts as much as I regret not listening to you."

Tulus nodded once. "Very likely. But I swear to you, my lord, I had no specific, advance knowledge of this plot. Or any specific idea why Glilavan partnered you and Anastor. Or that Demil was anywhere near you. If I had known any of those things, I would have stopped this, not participated."

"I believe that, Tulus. But I also have believed for a very long time, given how you hover over me when I am alone with Glilavan, that you do not entirely trust him. Am I correct?"

Tulus closed his eyes.

"I know that I am asking you to betray your own son, Tulus. But consider for a moment the fact that he has already betrayed you. He could not have believed that you would let Demil take me without a fight. And he could not have believed a fight would not result in you being at least injured, if not killed. Glilavan has put you in a very bad position, Tulus. Is that not true?"

"I am aware of that, my lord," Tulus whispered. "And it is very likely that the king has not questioned you on this because he already knows of Glilavan's involvement. He knows because I had Glilavan escorted back to the stronghold by the captain of the Path Guard."

Now it was Legolas's turn to gape. "You arrested Glilavan?"

Tulus nodded.

Legolas would have never expected that. What a terrible choice for Tulus to have to make! "Forgive me, Tulus. I underestimated you," he said softly.

"In more ways than you realize," Tulus replied, looking down.

"I apologize, Tulus."

Tulus did not reply and Legolas remained quiet a long moment as he considered if he should say more.

"The king asked me not to discuss this with you," he finally said, very softly. "But I do not think I can obey him."

Tulus did not manage to cover his reaction to that statement. "I have no idea what this is going to be about," he interrupted in a whisper, looking surreptitiously around himself. "And I have no desire to know. But if the king told you not to discuss it, you should not do so..."

Legolas waved him to silence. "All I am going to say is this: it is time for you to be completely honest with the king. Please volunteer to him any information that you have not already shared with him about Glilavan or about your past dealings with Manadhien. Immediately."

Tulus studied Legolas with wide eyes. "How do you believe that I have failed to be honest with the king, my lord?" he finally asked.

Legolas frowned. Tulus was a terrible liar. "I sincerely fear to find out," he said. "But it is clear to me from your reaction just now that you have not been." He leaned closer. "Please tell me, Tulus. Perhaps I can help you. I know that you would not willingly betray me. Or my father. I will help you if I can."

Tulus held Legolas's gaze for a long moment. Then he looked away. "I will tell you what I had already intended to tell the king once we return to the stronghold. I will tell you because you have the right to hear it from me directly, rather than being shocked by it in court." Tulus clasped his hands together in his lap, twisting his wedding ring as he struggled to find the words, or perhaps the courage, to speak. "I did not suspect that Glilavan was plotting against you, my lord," he finally said. "I knew that he was..."

Legolas loosed a sharp breath, as if Tulus had punched him.

"...I did not know the specifics. I swear that I did not. I did not know when it would happen or how, but I knew he was complicit in Manadhien's schemes."

Legolas stared at Tulus, struck dumb. "You intend to tell my adar that?" was all he managed to say once he found his voice.

"I cannot lie to him or you about it any longer," Tulus responded. "When I learned for certain that Glilavan was involved, after your grandparents were killed, I had hoped to pull him away from Manadhien's influence while, at the same time, keeping you safe. And I feared...I could not...how could I bring my own son to his execution? Only your actions prevented the king from executing Demil, after all. But now that I see how deep Glilavan is in this... I cannot allow it to continue, no matter the consequences. For either of us."

Legolas swallowed. "How...what did you know, precisely?"

Tulus sighed. "When your grandparents were killed, I confronted Glilavan. I asked him directly if he was involved in Manadhien's schemes. He confessed that he was. That he sent her information regarding troop movements to help her avoid arrest. I reminded him that when you are attacked, I am as well. I hoped that would wake him up. Make him see how dangerous a situation he had enmeshed himself in." Tulus closed his eyes tightly. "Legolas, he told me then that he knew Manadhien had decided to target you next, because you did indeed shoot her...hit her in that battle with your arrow. She did not want you to become any more skilled of a warrior. Glilavan told me that his hopes were that a plan could be made to eliminate you, while not injuring me too badly."

Again, Legolas was struck speechless. "You intend to tell adar that?" he finally repeated.

"I have to. I cannot allow this to continue now that I see that the threat was a serious one," Tulus said.

Legolas snorted and shook his head. "Adar will kill you where you stand," he muttered. That was a statement he had heard others make about his father. Dolgailon and Tulus had said Thranduil would kill Manadhien in the past. And he had scolded or scoffed at them for saying it. But in this instance, he believed his father would do it. He would not be prevented from doing it.

"I know," Tulus replied. "Me before my son, so I do not have to watch that. That is my only wish at this point."

A horrified look claimed Legolas. How could Tulus even say that!

"I am so sorry that I allowed this to happen," Tulus continued, not noticing Legolas's reaction, since his gaze was still fixed on his hands in his lap. "I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I hope that one day you will be able to give it. If for no other reason than holding anger in your heart does not serve you."

Legolas frowned. He was not angry. He was hurt, to be certain, but not angry. He should be. He had the right to be and he knew it. His guard... His friend, since he was an infant... Tulus had known for years that Manadhien was plotting against him and he did nothing. Nothing! It was his duty to speak up, both as a member of the Guard and as a friend. But Legolas found those facts did not stir anger in him so much as something else Tulus said stirred pity: he hoped to be executed before his son, so that he would not have to see it! Elbereth! No wonder he could not come forward if that was his best hope!

Legolas reached to grasp Tulus's hands. "I am not angry with you. I hold you blameless in this, or at least largely so. I understand how difficult it would be for you to betray your own son, especially if you expected him to be executed. Glilavan is at fault, apparently. And he repaid your loyalty and love for him very poorly, indeed. If I am angry at anyone, it is him. I will help you try to find a way to present this to the king, if I can."

Tulus stared at Legolas for a long moment, guilt and shame mixed with relief in his features. Then he shook his head. "No, Legolas," he said firmly. "You cannot involve yourself in this in anyway that appears to help me. That would make you complicit in treason. I will not allow it." He slouched, as if this conversation had drained him. Legolas did not doubt that it did. "I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I appreciate it. A great deal."

Legolas's mind raced, now more than ever, but there was one thing he was certain of. "You do not have my forgiveness, Tulus. You have my friendship."

* * *

Late that evening, Legolas sat on the bench he had shared earlier with his father to watch the sun rise. Now he stared at Menelvagor, the guardian warrior, peeking through the leaves of the trees surrounding the cottage. He was still deliberating everything that Tulus had told him, inspecting every memory of he and Tulus and Glilavan that he could recall. Thranduil and Conuion sat under a nearby tree, their heads together in a quiet, but obviously intense, conversation. Legolas was glad his father was occupied. He doubted his ability to hide what he was thinking from the king's sharp gaze.

Legolas glanced at Anastor, ambling out of the cottage, and he scooted over on the bench to give him room to sit. He did, plopping down beside Legolas, but leaning over to prop himself up, elbows on his knees, rather than resting back against the outside wall of the cottage. After a moment, Anastor drew his boot knife and began turning it over and over in his hand.

"When Amglaur was killed, there was a battle, right?" Anastor asked without looking at Legolas.

"Yes," Legolas answered, trying to keep his tone even. He did not want to be distracted from his thoughts.

"Did you fight?"

"Yes," Legolas responded.

Anastor looked up at him from his slouched over position and it seemed he was trying to read something in Legolas's face.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Adar tried to send Galithil, nana, daernana and I to safety, but our escape was cut off. We had to fight," he elaborated when Anastor continued to study him.

"Orcs? Only orcs?" Anastor asked.

Legolas loosed a bitter laugh. "Yes, only orcs. Only about seventy of them, is what I heard the warriors reporting to Dolgailon. Adar was almost killed in that battle, Anastor. I was almost killed."

Anastor nodded. "I remember. Thranduil was away from the capital for over a month. Did you kill any of the orcs?"

That question made Legolas draw himself up straighter. "I certainly did. A good number from the trees and even a few on the ground. Most importantly, I killed the one that cut Adar."

Anastor nodded and looked back at his knife, tracing the pattern carved into its hilt with his thumb. "You obviously feel quite good about that," he said quietly.

Now Legolas frowned at Anastor. "And why should I not feel good about it. They are orcs. They are responsible for this," he said, pointing towards the withered trees. "And they were trying to kill me. And my adar and naneth and cousin and grandparents. Why would I not feel good about destroying as many of them as I could?"

"That man would have killed us," Anastor whispered, now clutching the knife. "But I imagine he would not have killed us as fast as we would have wished." He paused and when he continued, Legolas had to strain to hear him. "I know we had to kill him, but ...I just...it is just that...I have never killed anyone before. I mean, I have killed deer and rabbits and quail, obviously. But not...people. When I get a buck, I am proud of that. I cannot say that I am proud of killing the man. In fact, when I think about it..." he looked back at Legolas. "I feel a little sick, to be honest. Did you feel strange about killing the orcs?"

As soon as Anastor mentioned the man, Legolas's irritation melted away. By the time Anastor stopped speaking, Legolas felt inclined to put an arm around him. Except Anastor would never tolerate such a gesture. He shook his head. "I think the difference is that we have been raised to hate orcs and know that they are only capable of destruction, so there is nothing in them that can be redeemed. But men...they are so unpredictable. Most that I have met seem willing to do horrible things, but if you give them a chance to make a better choice, some will and some will not, so you have to take time to judge them. And adar says that even evil ones we should hesitate to kill unless forced to do so, since they are still Iluvatar's children, as we are."

"Would the king have killed that man, Legolas?"

"Yes, I would have," Thranduil answered. Both Legolas and Anastor jumped slightly. "Without hesitation. Any man that buys slaves, elven, dwarven or mannish, is evil. Do not doubt that you did what had to be done. Either you had to kill the man, or you had to die yourselves. You did well, Anastor. You will be a fine warrior."

"Thank you," Anastor replied. Now his voice was rough. "And I know I did what I had to. But I still feel...not guilty, because I know it was justified...but I do not feel completely right about it."

"How you feel is understandable, Anastor. It is how you know that you are a better person than those men and elves that held you," Thranduil assured him.

"I understand very well how you feel, Anastor," Legolas added softly.

"Demil?" Anastor whispered.

Legolas nodded.

"You also did what has to be done, Legolas. What you were forced to do. Demil gave you no choice," Anastor said firmly.

"It does not make it feel better though, does it?" Legolas asked.

Anastor shook his head and looked out into the forest. "Adar told us-Maidhien and nana and I-that you stopped the king from executing Demil when he had him exiled instead. Adar was truly impressed by you. And by the fact that the king actually spared Demil. But I bet that you regret that now."

Legolas's brows drew together. Did he regret it? "I regret that Demil was able to injure you and Tulus and I," he began, working through his thoughts out loud. "And I deeply regret what happened to your adar. I wish that I had taken one of the opportunities Demil gave me before your adar had to suffer such a fate, but I did not have the courage to do so until I was convinced there was no other option." He paused. "But I do not regret asking the king not to execute Demil. Mithrandir said that the wise are slow to hand out death in judgment and I agree with that. Who knows. Perhaps it was as much adar's mercy as Manadhien's evil deeds that finally persuaded your adar to see the folly of aiding her against the king." He looked at his father. "And we do not know if the converse is true. If fear of such a severe penalty might compel someone who would otherwise be honest to remain silent or seek to manage situations themselves that are beyond their ability to manage. No, there are too many unknown consequences of such a deed, and once done, it is impossible to undo it. I cannot support it. Under any circumstances. I think those are my thoughts on that matter."

Anastor appeared satisfied by that answer. More likely he was bored by it. He rarely paid attention when Legolas or his cousins reasoned through any complex concept. Thranduil, on the other hand, studied Legolas carefully. Legolas held his gaze.


	7. Of cowardice and courage

**Chapter 7: Of cowardice and courage**

Thranduil's horse cantered across the moonlit path on the Green and straight to the barn. Everyone else followed through the barnyard gates close behind him. No one was there to greet them and that was exactly what Thranduil had intended. He had purposefully timed their departure this morning to ensure that they would arrive at the stronghold far later than anyone would still be awake. Legolas and Anastor both were reaching the end of their endurance. Legolas's increasingly short temper was evidence enough of that. It was completely understandable, but it also meant that Legolas did not need to face questions from the entire populace upon his return. Anastor certainly had no idea how to handle that sort of attention.

Legolas slid off his horse with a sigh and looked out onto the Green, relief plainly evident on his face when he saw it deserted.

Thranduil tossed the reins of his horse to Conuion. "Could you make sure that someone sees to the horses. Legolas and I will accompany Anastor to his cottage." Anastor was standing alone in the middle of the yard, still resolutely ignoring his father. "Tulus, can you come with us and help Dannenion?"

Since Tulus had been relieved of the duty to guard Legolas, he rode with Dannenion to steady him. He was already helping Dannenion to dismount. And they were still whispering. They had whispered the entire day, sometimes quite heatedly.

Tulus and Dannenion made to follow after Thranduil, who held out his arm, gesturing for Anastor to come to him, but Lanthir interrupted their departure. "Dannenion's family, and Dolwon's, are currently staying in the stronghold," he said, leading Legolas's horse to the barn and taking the reins of Thranduil's stallion as he passed Conuion. "The queen invited them to stay in the stronghold for their safety," he explained in response to both Dannenion and Thranduil's surprised expressions.

"Then we will all go to the stronghold, if you do not mind, Tulus," Thranduil replied.

"I do not mind, my lord," Tulus said, bringing Dannenion along side the king. "But...may Dannenion and I speak to you for a few moments before you retire? We realize that it is very late, and it had been a difficult journey, at best. Still, we think you would prefer not to put off this discussion. It is about Manadhien and this incident."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. That confirmed the topic of Tulus and Dannenion's whisperings. "I cannot refuse that request, as you well know," he answered. "Give me a few moments to get Legolas settled and I will join you in the Hall."

"We can go straight to the Hall. I am staying for this," Legolas said. His tone brooked no argument. Not waiting for a response, he cut across the yard towards the Gates. Anastor took off after him.

Thranduil scowled and watched them jog away. Arguing with Legolas would only delay even further the time it would take to get him into his bed and it was unlikely that anything Tulus might say would be worse than what Legolas had already experienced. He gestured for Tulus and Dannenion to follow Legolas and Anastor, who were already leaping over the stone fence that enclosed the yard.

Tulus nodded his thanks to Thranduil and helped Dannenion towards the gate in the fence.

Thranduil did not miss the dread in Dannenion's eyes.

They walked swiftly across the Green, past the table and barrel still there from the night's merrymaking, and straight to the bridge. The guards at the Gates had been watching them since they road into view. Now they smiled broadly at Legolas.

"We are relieved to see you returned uninjured, my lord," one of them said. "Relatively so," he added. They both almost succeeded in concealing their dismay upon noticing the bruises and bandages that Legolas and Anastor bore.

By law, the guards at the Gates were not supposed to speak with anyone while on duty and Legolas had been instructed not to distract them since he had learned to walk, but everyone silently agreed that this occasion merited a temporary suspension of that rule.

"Thank you. I am very relieved to be back, I assure you," Legolas responded, speaking in the same tone that he would use to return any greeting. He sounded completely normal, merry even, and the guards were clearly reassured by that. They saluted him, their pleased smiled returned to their faces, and bowed to Thranduil, returning to attention as he passed them.

Thranduil's estimation of how his son had handled himself throughout this incident rose yet again.

Once they were inside the stronghold, Legolas said goodnight to Anastor and asked Lanthir to escort him to where ever his family had been housed, without giving Anastor time to protest, thus preempting any argument that he should be exposed to anymore shocking news about his father. Thranduil had no doubt that shocking news - or at least news that would further shock Anastor - was about to be revealed. Then Legolas walked straight to the doors of the Great Hall and opened them, holding them for Thranduil, Tulus and Dannenion.

Thranduil nodded his thanks to him and walked up the center aisle of the Hall. He stopped at the meeting table where he normally met with his council and seated himself there, gesturing for Legolas to take Hallion's place to his right. In response to that choice, some of the tension left Legolas's shoulders and both Tulus and Dannenion bowed their heads to conceal their surprise. Thranduil had no doubt that the throne would be a more fitting place from which to hear this confession, but that was not something he would impose upon Dannenion at this moment.

Tulus and Dannenion did not sit. They stood along side the table, facing Thranduil and Legolas. Neither of them had managed to meet the king's eyes since leaving the barn yard.

"I gather that this is going to be a conversation I will not enjoy," Thranduil said quietly. "Normally, you would be quite right to stand for it, but given Dannenion's injuries, I would prefer that you both sit."

Instead of accepting that invitation, they hesitated. Finally, Tulus stepped forward and pulled out the chair across from Thranduil. He sat on its edge, hands in his lap, his gaze fixed on them. Dannenion sat next to him. Thranduil stifled a snort. He hid behind Tulus, in truth.

"What was it that you wanted to tell me?" Thranduil asked, as calmly as he could manage.

They glanced at one another. "Me first," Dannenion whispered, "while I can still do it." Then he shifted about in his chair. "My lord," he began after a long moment of silence.

That was as far as he got. He took a long, shuddering breath and let it out, tugging a bit at the bandages on his arm. Several moments passed in silence as Dannenion struggled for words.

"Clearly, whatever you are about to confess to me is very serious, but you have come to me willingly and that always goes a long way towards earning my mercy, Dannenion," Thranduil said softly.

Dannenion slumped back in his chair, his uninjured hand grasping the edge of the table for support. He still did not look up, but he did finally speak. "My lord, you trusted me to serve Lord Golwon. To help him manage correspondence from the villages and the shipment of supplies between them." Dannenion stopped there.

"Yes, I do trust you to do that," Thranduil said when Dannenion said no more.

"Since Maidhien and Lord Galithil were betrothed..." Dannenion continued, his voice fading to a whisper, "Since you exiled Demil when he confessed that Manadhien had actually..." he only managed to mouth the phrase 'killed Amglaur.' "Since then," he continued in a slightly stronger voice, "I have executed the duties Lord Golwon gave me faithfully." Dannenion took a deep breath. "Before then, I did not," he whispered and finally he looked up at Thranduil.

"How do you mean?" Thranduil asked, beginning to wonder if Fuilin had told him the full extent of Dannenion and Dolwon's treachery, given how frightened Dannenion was.

"I...took reports. Sometimes copies, sometimes originals." Dannenion replied. "Ones that described how the southern patrol was deployed. Ones that described when Lord Celonhael or Lord Golwon or Lord Dolgailon would travel south." He drew another long breath. "Ones that described Legolas and Galithil's travel plans - when they hunted, for example." He swallowed. "I sent them to Manadhien."

"You know how to find Manadhien?" Thranduil asked. Nothing in Dannenion's confession, thus far, surprised him and not only because Fuilin had already told him everything Dannenion just said. He had always suspected Dannenion of sending Marti information. But if Dannenion could tell him where to find her, that would be very satisfying indeed.

Unfortunately, Dannenion immediately looked down and shook his head. "I sent the reports...several ways. If all she wanted was information-movements of the patrols-I copied those and there was a hawk. Her hawk. It carried a message saying what she wanted and then I sent that information back with it. Sometimes she wanted original reports. In that case, she sent someone. Most often Demil. Sometimes another elf. I did not know his name." He looked at Thranduil again. "I think she wanted the originals not for the information in them, but to use them. Against people. She often asked me for Tulus's reports, even though the information in them was old-where Legolas had gone, not where he was going. And she wanted them to be in his hand."

Thranduil looked at Tulus. His expression was hard. Angry. But not surprised. A glance at Legolas showed he was equally angry and unsurprised.

Legolas leaned closer to Thranduil. "I told you there would be an explanation," he said so quietly that Thranduil barely heard him.

He nodded in acknowledgment, but remained focused on Dannenion. "Why did you stop aiding Manadhien, Dannenion?" he asked.

Danneion's brows drew together sharply and he faced Thranduil fully. "Because she is obviously insane!" he exclaimed. "She killed..." he glanced at Legolas and cut himself off. "I will not participate in such evil. I will do nothing to aid it. Nothing at all." He looked down. "And besides, I realized that she does not want to help the forest, she wants to hurt you. I may not like you much. I still do not agree with all of your decisions, especially about the southern realm. But I confess that I do not see how I could do better, if I were in your place. And I admit that when I did have suggestions, Golwon took them to you and sometimes you implemented them. You do not deserve...I did not treat you fairly. I have regretted for a long time now much of what I did, and my part in the queen's abduction and your guards' deaths not the least of all. It is very likely that I would have stopped aiding her long ago, if I could have."

"Why could you not?" Thranduil asked, voice rising slightly in surprise.

Dannenion loosed a frustrated breath. "I could not simply walk away from her. It is not that easy. When you arrested Dolwon and I and brought us north, she sent Fuilin to remind us that we still have cousins in the south. Nothing more. Just to say that. But we knew what it meant-that we had better not forget her. At the time, we were resentful that you imprisoned us and we would have helped her if we had a way to do so. When you employed us in the stronghold, she sent Fuilin again. He told us what she wanted us to do and I admit that we did it mostly willingly, without the need for threats. She said she wanted the information about the Southern Patrol to live in peace and avoid arrest, which we sympathized with, since we were still prisoners ourselves. And when she started asking for information beyond the reports of the patrols, we tried not to think what she might be using it for. By the time it became undeniable that she was using the information we sent her to plot against your family, we could not see a way out. When we finally did refuse to send her any more reports-and I swear we never sent her another single piece of information after that attack in the south-she openly threatened us. She sent her hawk with messages saying she had letters in our hand, incriminating ones, that she would find a way to give to you if we did not continue aiding her. She said that once you saw what she would send, the least you would do to us would be to exile us and then, she promised, she would find us and make us pay. We still refused, so she threatened us again, saying she would send Fuilin to bring us to her. She said the moment our families were undefended, she would take them. That is why we have never traveled again, even though you gave us leave to do so years ago. We were afraid to go away from the stronghold where he could hunt us. After a while, we thought she gave up. We had not heard from her for years. Two years."

Thranduil leaned back in his chair. There was more information in that monologue than Dannenion had intended.

"So you believe Manadhien lives in the south, if she was threatening your cousins who still live there and if she was interested in the reports of the Southern Patrol?"

Dannenion frowned and kept his gaze focused on his lap. "Yes, I think she lives somewhere in the south," he admitted.

"And when you said 'we,' I assume that you meant Dolwon and yourself? Or did 'we' refer to you and someone else?"

Dannenion cringed and cursed himself under his breath. "Please let me tell Dolwon that I told you this before you confront him," he pleaded. "I am willing to speak for myself, but I did not intend to implicate him. It is his place to come forward on his own, and I think he will, after this, if given the chance."

"If you can convince him to do that, it would be the wisest choice he could make," Thranduil said. "One you both should have made sooner. Why would you not come to me before this, Dannenion? If you have believed since she killed Amglaur and Limmiel that she is evil, why would you not help me capture her, so she could no longer threaten you and your family?"

Dannenion laughed. "By confessing this to you, the best outcome I can hope for is exile-and I will beg you to send only me from the forest. My wife had nothing to do with any of this. You could see from Anastor's reaction that he knew nothing, and of course, you know Maidhien is completely loyal to you." He shook his head and looked down. "I already told you what Manadhien said she would do to me if I am sent outside the protection of this forest. And when she has me, she will come again for my family. If she can get to them, she will kill each of them before my eyes before finally killing me. Who will protect them now that I will not be able to?"

"I will, Dannenion," Thranduil replied. "I will not allow Manadhien to harm any citizen in this realm, whether they are a member of my family or yours or anyone else's. And with your help, while she still trusted you, we could have formed a plan to capture her."

"It is not a matter of just capturing Manadhien. It is a matter of capturing all of her servants as well," Dannenion said, punctuating his words by poking a finger on the surface of the table. "But you will go straight for Manadhien, not realizing the threat her servants represent and not listening or believing us when we try to tell you the threat they are. You never listen to us. But I warn you, my lord: her servants are completely loyal to her. If you kill her, they will disperse, you will never find them, and they will keep coming after you and your family to the last person. Only death will stop them. Yours or theirs. And I do not believe Fuilin and Mauril are her only remaining servants. Remember, I told you already that sometimes she sent other messengers to me for reports and we know from Legolas and Anastor that two other elves aided in their capture. Manadhien may be the spider, but she has a web that must be destroyed along with her."

Thranduil took his time to consider all that Dannenion said, both the words and the accusations behind them. Some of the accusations were not veiled at all-specifically that he never listened to Dannenion. Thranduil could not deny that was true. He had not listened to Dannenion, or questioned him, as Lindomiel did, at the start of this incident, and if he had, they might have found Legolas before he was subjected to whatever the man had done-Legolas still avoided discussing that-and before he was forced to kill Demil. Thranduil had been haunted by that realization for days.

Moreover, Dannenion may be right that he would have dismissed his concerns about Manadhien's servants. Dannenion was certainly correct that he would go straight for Manadhien, personally, if he had the slightest idea where to find her. Nothing would stop him. And perhaps that would be a mistake. He had always assumed that if Manadhien were eliminated, her servants would be of little consequence without her leadership. After learning that Fuilin and his brothers had served her family since the First Age-and these unknown servants for even longer-he could not deny that it was unlikely they would simply drift away.

As Thranduil had contemplated this, Dannenion made a valiant effort to meet his gaze. Finally, now, he flinched away, looking down and frowning. Thranduil frowned also. Dannenion tried to hide it, but he was plainly frightened. He had just confessed, again, to treason, so fear was certainly what he should be feeling. Thranduil had the responsibility to punish those that threatened the peace in his realm. But Dannenion clearly believed Thranduil would go beyond punishment. Dannenion believed that Thranduil would allow the innocent-Eregeth, Anastor and Maidhien-to suffer at Manadhien's hands. And he stated that the least he expected for this confession was exile. Exile was the harshest punishment Thranduil would impose on any of his citizens, and then only on those he considered an irredeemable threat to the forest. What worse punishment could Dannenion fear? Surely he did not think he would execute him along side murderers like Fuilin and Mauril! And if he did, how had he come to such ideas?

Thranduil stifled a sigh. Nothing he did had ever influenced what Dannenion thought of him, but he might still be able to make some use of him. "If I asked you to help me catch Manadhien," he asked, "and I promised you that I would do everything within my power to keep your family safe if you helped me, would you do it?"

"Yes," Dannenion answered, without hesitation. "But only if you agreed to go after her servants too, because I believe them to be an equal threat." He looked down. "But I do not know what help I could be. She clearly no longer trusts me."

"No, but you might still be able to communicate with her and that communication might lead us to her. And even if you cannot communicate with her, if you tell me where you have met her hawk and her messengers, I can have those locations watched. Perhaps we can begin to identify her servants."

Dannenion nodded. "I will do as you ask."

"One more question," Thranduil said. "Would you be serving me, this forest or only yourself if you gave me that help?"

Dannenion's eyes filled with grief. "I know it is too late for me, my lord. But I swear to you, if it were not, I would never betray you again. I know what I did was stupid and I would undo all of it if I could."

Thranduil nodded, satisfied. That was the most honest Dannenion had ever been with him. Tragic as this incident had been, at least some good came of it if Dannenion would now work with him against Manadhien. He turned to Tulus, who, supposedly, was already working with him against Manadhien.

"I already have seen these reports, written in your hand, that Dannenion sent to Manadhien," he said quietly and watched both Tulus and Dannenion's eyes fly open. "Fuilin told me that Dannenion had been sending reports and he claimed that you were as well, Tulus. Are all the reports that I was shown ones that Dannenion sent?"

"I swear that they were, my lord. I would never betray you or Legolas or any other member of your family by conspiring in such a way with Manadhien," Tulus replied quickly.

"Then why are you here?" Thranduil asked.

Tulus took a deep breath and his gaze flicked to Legolas. Legolas nodded at him. "First, I need to tell you how Legolas and Anastor were captured," he began.

Thranduil's brows drew together and his pulse quickened. He had never truly believed that Tulus sent the reports about Legolas's movements that his guards had retrieved from the box Fuilin described. Indeed, he could not imagine what Tulus wanted to speak to him about when he asked to do so in the barnyard. Surely Tulus was not about to confess to him that he had some part in in Legolas's abduction! That was impossible. Legolas was clearly present to support Tulus and he would not do so if he suspected Tulus were truly guilty of treason.

"As you are undoubtedly aware," Tulus continued. "Legolas and Anastor should not have been partnered together in this drill. They should have been partnered with adults."

Thranduil tensed. How could that have never occurred to him? He insisted on that law himself when the training program was designed. "That is certainly true. How did you and Anastor come to be partnered?" he asked, looking Legolas. His brow furrowed more. "And why would you allow it?" he continued, turning back to Tulus.

Legolas remained silent and looked at Tulus. "Glilavan changed the pairings for the drill at the last moment, my lord," Tulus answered. "I reminded him that his change was against policy. He offered an excuse for his decision and told me that if I did not like it, I could take Legolas back to the stronghold. I chose not to."

"Initially, Tulus intended to take me home, but Anastor and I begged him not to," Legolas interjected quietly. "We thought that passing this exam was too important." His tone made clear how disgusted he was with that judgment.

Thranduil did not acknowledge him. He continued studying Tulus. "Is this why you had Glilavan escorted back to the stronghold? Because his violation of this policy contributed to Legolas's capture? You thought the presence of more skilled adults might have prevented this?" Thranduil prayed that was all Tulus wanted to tell him, but from Tulus's expression, that could not be the case.

Tulus looked down a moment and appeared to gather himself. Then he looked back at Thranduil, squarely. "No, my lord. I had him arrested because I believe his violation of the training program's policy was intentionally planned in order to make Legolas and Anastor one target."

Thranduil struggled maintain a neutral expression. "Are you saying that Glilavan was part of this plot to abduct Legolas and Anastor? Are you accusing Glilavan of treason?" he asked.

Tulus managed, with obvious effort, to hold Thranduil's gaze, but his voice was just a whisper. "Yes, my lord, I am."

Thranduil did not bother to conceal his reaction to that. He leaned forward, forearm resting on the table, and studied Tulus until Tulus looked back down at his lap. "Do you have any evidence?" he asked. "Other than the fact that Glilavan partnered Legolas and Anastor?"

Tulus placed on hand on the edge of his chair and lifted himself up, slightly, giving Thranduil the distinct impression he would like to flee. He glanced at Dannenion.

"I have known," Dannenion said, "since my initial arrest, that Glilavan was one of Manadhien's supporters. A conspirator, as I was, from the beginning. Glilavan used his position as a warrior and later as an officer to get information about troop movements to send to her."

Thranduil's eyes widened and his gaze darted between Dannenion and Tulus.

"When I was arrested," Tulus continued, "you asked me if Glilavan had conspired with Manadhien and I gave you the most honest answer that I had the facts to support at the time: that I prayed he had not. After my trial, when you sent me to Glilavan's cottage to live with him, I confronted him and he swore to me that he did not support her. I never believed that claim. Not entirely. But I wanted to. What father would want to believe that his son was involved with someone who was a murderer?" Tulus stopped and again faced Thranduil fully. "When Lord Amglaur and Lady Limmiel were killed, I confronted Glilavan again and he confessed to me that he did support Manadhien."

Thranduil's jaw fell open. He pressed himself against the back of his chair and gripped the table's edge in an effort to occupy his hands. Then he waited until he was certain that he would respond to what Tulus had just said with words only. "Let me make certain that I understand what you are telling me, Tulus. You, a member of my Guard, have known for six years of the existence of a person that is a threat to the family that you have sworn an oath to protect, and you have not told me or Conuion about that threat? Is that correct?"

"Adar, please listen to everything he has to say," Legolas whispered.

"Be silent or leave," Thranduil snapped without taking his eyes off Tulus.

"Yes, my lord, that is correct," Tulus answered.

"Tell me why, Tulus," Thranduil ordered, his voice low like a wolf's growl. "Why would you allow such a threat to continue? And why are you telling me now. Now that the damage has been done."

"To prevent worse damage from being done, my lord," Tulus whispered. "When Glilavan admitted it to me...when I could no longer deny it to myself, I hoped to pull him out of it, away from her, before anyone was hurt-Legolas, you, Glilavan or anyone else. I wanted to save my son. He is my last son. I have lost two others and a daughter..."

Thranduil frowned. He thought Glilavan was Tulus's only child.

"...I lost my wife. I could not bear to lose Glilavan too. I had to get him away from her. I reminded him that if Legolas were attacked, I would be injured. That for any attack against Legolas to be successful, I would have to be killed. I thought surely that would be enough to wake him up." Tulus closed his eyes and appeared to steel himself to continue.

Thranduil felt a hand close over his wrist. He looked down to see Legolas's hand gripping the arm closest to him-his right arm.

"When I told him that, Glilavan told me that he hoped a plan could be made to finish Legolas without injuring me too badly, but regardless, Manadhien had decided to target him next, since Legolas shot her when she was trying to kill the queen after killing Lord Amglaur and Lady Limmiel."

Half way through that admission, Thranduil arose from his chair and leaned across the table, ignoring Legolas's grasp tightening on his wrist and towering over Tulus. "Are you telling me that you knew that Manadhien and Glilavan were plotting against Legolas, specifically-my son, who you are assigned to protect-and you did exactly nothing? Is that what you are telling me?"

Tulus's mouth opened, but no sound escaped it.

"He protected me, my lord," Legolas said, speaking firmly. "And when Glilavan acted, so did Tulus. He fought Lagril. Even after Demil shot him and Lagril disarmed him, he continued fighting, until he was defending himself-and me-with only an arrow tip. And he surrendered when I did, with no expectation that his life would be spared. When, against all hope, it was spared, he arrested Glilavan and came after me, despite being injured himself. He fought almost ten men to give me time to escape..."

"And if he had done his duty and told me six years ago that Glilavan was conspiring with Manadhien, he would not have had to do any of those things. Two Sixth Years would not be dead. Dannenion would still have his arm. And you and Anastor would not have been beaten, cut or forced to fight and kill elves," Thranduil retorted, glaring at Tulus.

"That is absolutely true, my lord," Tulus whispered. "I swear I wanted to put an end to this, but I could not see a way to do it."

Thranduil pulled his hand free of Legolas's grasp and slammed it down on the table, making Tulus, Dannenion and Legolas all jump. Tulus and Dannenion shrank away from him. "That is precisely what you told me when Himion and Candirith were killed. Do you remember what I told you then? I told you that if you had trusted me...if you had come to me with what you knew, I would have helped you. When Himion and Candirith were killed, I was merciful in my reaction to your crimes because you convinced me that my own treatment of you when I dismissed you from my guard was partially to blame for your attitude towards me and your unwillingness to come to me for help. Now that I have entrusted you with what is most precious to me-my son's life-how is it that you still do not return that trust? Explain to me why you would not come to me and tell me that Glilavan was involved and ask me for help to extricate him from Manadhien's influence."

"I have no excuse, my lord," Tulus whispered. "I was wrong, exactly as you say, to not trust you. I was a coward. Again. I deserve whatever you will do with me."

"Tulus," Legolas whispered, his tone both admonishing and pleading.

Tulus shook his head at him. "I will make no attempt to excuse my failure, my lord."

Thranduil straightened and turned to face Legolas, jaw clenched. "Speak," he ordered.

Legolas looked from Tulus to Thranduil, his eyes widening as he registered the king's expression. But he said nothing.

"Legolas, so help me, if you know anything that Tulus has not told me and you withhold that information..." he left that statement, that obvious threat, hanging.

Legolas blinked. "I..." he glanced at Tulus. "Tulus told me the reason he did not come to you about Glilavan. Nothing more. He told me when he confessed all this to me in Maethorness's village."

Thranduil's back stiffened. "Tulus confessed treason to you, but not to me. How did that happen? And how is it that you, Legolas, did not come directly to me the moment you heard this?"

Briefly, Legolas appeared as if he might answer those questions as he would any others Thranduil asked him. Then he froze, mouth partially open and he stared at the king as full understanding of what Thranduil had just implied hit him.

As Thranduil watched that realization turn to fear that Legolas could not hide, Thranduil felt a stab of regret for his words. Their implied accusation was absurd under any circumstances and he knew it. Under the current circumstances, given all that Legolas had endured, they were wholly unjust.

Legolas stood, apparently rendered speechless. He merely shook his head.

Thranduil could not remember ever seeing his son unable to speak.

"I swore to Legolas that I would tell you myself, my lord," Tulus hastened to defend Legolas. "He was only giving me time to come forward myself. And I told him before you because, after everything else he has been through, for him to hear this in court would be too much. I wanted to spare him at least some of the shock by telling him in private."

Thranduil turned back to Tulus, the more appropriate target for his fury. "You wanted to convince my son that you deserve mercy. Again," he retorted. "So that he would defend you. But that will not serve you, Tulus. The last time we spoke on this topic, specifically on the topic of Glilavan, I told you that if you betrayed me, my wrath would be beyond your worst imagining, and I assure you that it will."

"And that threat is precisely what prevented him from trusting you, my lord," Legolas whispered.

"Legolas, do you not understand how angry...? Be silent. Do not involve yourself in this any further," Tulus begged.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Thranduil said, speaking over Tulus and directing himself to Legolas.

"When Tulus told me this," Legolas answered, now managing to mask his emotions and meeting the king's gaze squarely-Thranduil still saw tension in his posture, "I told him that you would kill him where he stands. His response was, 'me before my son, so I do not have to watch that.' That is a quote, my lord. I will never forget those words. Tulus feared to come to you about Glilavan because he did not want to watch you execute his son. I do not deny that he still should have come to you. I see now that I should have insisted that he speak to you immediately after he spoke to me. But surely you can see that threats of violence are, at least in part, to blame for this incident."

"Legolas, do not be a fool," Thranduil exclaimed. "How many elves have you seen me execute? Or read in court records that I executed? Tulus and Dannenion both were convicted in my court, Tulus of sedition and Dannenion of treason, and they both yet draw breath. There is no reason Tulus would fear that I would execute his son, much less before his very eyes. He is manipulating you."

Legolas frowned. "I am neither a fool, nor so terrible a judge of character, nor easily manipulated, my lord. May I respectfully remind you that you had your knife in your hand, prepared to execute Demil, before Mithrandir intervened. Tulus was the person restraining Demil. He saw that. Presumably only days before Glilavan first confessed his sympathies to Tulus. And you held a sword against Fuilin's chest and threatened to execute him before Celonhael intervened only days ago. Tulus also saw that. You are still considering if you will execute Fuilin, for the exact incident that Glilavan is guilty of taking part in. If I were Tulus, I would conclude that there is a strong possibility that you might execute Glilavan. In fact, as I already mentioned, I, myself, thought you would execute Tulus. What else could the threat of 'wrath beyond your worst imagining' possibly refer to?"

"Legolas, please be silent," Tulus whispered.

Thranduil glared at Legolas, but he could not refute what he had argued.

"You told Dolwon and I that you would execute us," Dannenion said softly when Thranduil did not speak.

"I never said any such thing," Thranduil responded.

"You did, my lord, when you first questioned us," Dannenion insisted. "You told us that conspiring with enemies of the realm was treason and Fengel had recently executed men for that crime. You said there was a precedent for elves doing the same. From the court of a king whose sister was murdered by an elf. He executed the elf, apparently. You more than implied that you would do the same to us if we hurt your family. We have always expected you would when you finally learned we were still betraying you."

Thranduil stared at him. That was why Dannenion was so disproportionately frightened to confess sending information to Manadhien? He could not deny Dannenion was telling the truth. Thusly reminded, he did remember telling Dannenion and Dolwon that he would execute anyone that threatened his family. He did it hoping to frighten them into a full confession.

He had frightened them. That was certain.

He looked slowly from Legolas to Dannenion and Tulus. Legolas met his gaze steadily. Both Dannenion and Tulus flinched away from it.

Fear of such a punishment might force someone who was normally honest to silence, or force someone to attempt to manage a situation beyond his authority. That was Legolas's argument in Maethorness's village against executing Fuilin and Mauril. It had moved Thranduil then.

"Tulus look at me," he ordered.

Tulus complied, almost managing to hide his fear.

"The truth," Thranduil demanded. "Did you decide against speaking to me about Glilavan because you feared I would execute him?"

Tulus nodded. "I expect nothing else, my lord. I know that you cannot allow such threats against your family, and thus, this realm, to continue."

Thranduil studied him for a long moment. He believed him. He slowly re-seated himself, gesturing for Legolas to sit as well. He closed his eyes briefly when Legolas sank, rather than simply sat, into his chair.

"Very well," Thranduil said. "Is there any more that either of you need to tell me?"

"No, my lord," they both said at once.

Thranduil released a long breath. "I need to consider what you have told me before I can decide how I will respond to it. I can tell you this much, and I confess myself utterly horrified to have to say it: while there will definitely be consequences for what you have done, I do not intend to execute either of you. Or Glilavan. My reaction to him will depend greatly on how he responds to me when I question him, but, thankfully, I have other options with him, that I do not with Fuilin and his brothers, that make execution unnecessary. I sincerely regret that you both have the impression that I would use such a punishment so lightly. I have seen elves kill elves. I have been forced to do it myself. It is definitely not something I could easily do again. I would only consider such a punishment if I had no other option and if I considered the criminal a grievous, persistent threat to this realm." He paused, trying not to be offended by Dannenion and Tulus's obvious relief. "Since you both came to me voluntarily, may I assume that you will not flee my judgment? Or must I set guards upon you?"

"I am going no where, my lord. I am resigned to what ever will come," Tulus said.

"I will also accept what ever your judgment will be. May I tell Dolwon that I spoke to you and tell him he needs to do the same?"

Thranduil nodded. "You may," he said, knowing Dannenion would do exactly that, with or without permission. "You may go do so now. The guards at the doors to the family quarters should be able to direct you to where ever Galion has housed your wife and Maidhien. Tulus, stay one more moment, please."

Dannenion stood and bowed. Then he walked slowly down the center aisle and through the open doors of the Hall.

Thranduil waited until he was gone and then turned to Tulus. "I have one more question for you that I am hesitant to ask, but I must know the answer: did you speak to me willingly about this or did Legolas say something to you that led you to do so?" From the corner of his eyes, he saw Legolas draw himself up in his chair.

Tulus's expression was immediately and completely neutral. "Lord Legolas took me aside in Maethorness's village and reminded me that he would have to tell you what Glilavan did-changing the conditions of the drill. He suggested it would be better for me to tell you about that. I told him that I intended to tell you and had already arrested Glilavan. As we explained, then I told him why I arrested Glilavan, to spare him the shock of hearing it in the public court."

Thranduil looked at him appraisingly. "What, precisely, did Legolas tell you when you had this conversation?" he pressed.

Tulus affected a confused expression. "Tell me, my lord? I told Lord Legolas about Glilavan. He told me nothing, except that he thought your reaction to this information would be...harsh. I knew that, without being told."

"Tulus," Legolas intervened, "I do not expect you to lie for me to anyone, much less to the king. I told him nothing of what Fuilin told us, my lord. I did not tell him Fuilin's claims that he could produce evidence to incriminate Tulus. I did not even mention Fuilin's name when we spoke. But I did warn Tulus that if there was anything he had failed to tell you about his dealings with Manadhien, he had better tell you now. And I implied there was a reason that I said that-I told him that you had ordered me not to speak to him. I am aware that what I said bordered on disobeying your order to say nothing to Tulus. I do not expect you to be pleased by that. I knew when I was doing it that there would eventually be consequences for it."

"Legolas did not say any more than what he just told you, my lord, but, I swear, it had no impact on what I would have told you tonight. With or without his warning, I would have asked to speak to you and I would have told you exactly what I told you," Tulus hastened to add.

Thranduil looked up at the ceiling. "Well, Legolas, you were clearly right about one thing: Tulus is indeed every bit as loyal to you as you are to him. He will not betray you, not even to me." He focused a stern glare on Tulus. "In addition to knowing what Glilavan was plotting, did you also know what Dannenion and Dolwon were doing?"

Now Tulus appeared genuinely startled. "Know it, my lord? I knew it exactly as you did. We all suspected them, I think. None of us could prove anything. I never saw either of them steal reports or send messages, either with birds or with couriers. And they certainly never confessed anything to me."

"Then what were you and Dannenion whispering about during the entire ride today?" Thranduil asked.

"I told him what I had to tell you. He had the right to know, after all. His son was injured by Glilavan's actions. He lost an arm, as you mentioned. Then he told me what he just confessed to you and I encouraged him to simply tell you. I told him that we could go together to speak to you, if it would help him. But I told him that if he did not tell you himself, I would be forced to tell you."

"Do you think that threat is the only reason he spoke to me?"

Tulus shook his head. "We want this over, my lord. He wanted to tell you. As did I."

"We have that one thing in common, then-wanting this over," Thranduil said dryly. "Tulus, I will say this to you privately: I am utterly disgusted and furious beyond words with you. I trusted you. With my son. My son. Yet you could not trust me. My own trust aside, do you have any idea how completely Legolas trusts you? You exposed him..."

"My lord, please. This is unnecessary and cruel," Legolas whispered as grief contorted Tulus's features.

Thranduil pointed to Legolas. "Do you see how he trusts you? Even still, he would not hesitate to trust you to guard him if I were to allow it. If you feared speaking to me, why not tell Legolas? You obviously trust him. And you have seen that he has some influence over my actions. It was he, and not Mithrandir, that stopped me from executing Demil. Why not ask him for help?"

"I have been wondering that myself," Legolas said quietly.

Tulus addressed Legolas when answering that question. "At first, I hoped to get Glilavan away from Manadhien, as I said. I hoped I could convince him to betray her to Thranduil himself, by making him see that he would have to kill me to kill you. When it became obvious that he would not turn away from her, I considered if I could ask you for your help to tell the king, but I still feared for Glilavan. If you went with me to confess, and if the king held his temper because we told him before Glilavan harmed anyone, then, rather than executing my son, he would likely have exiled him. Frankly, I would rather see him sent to Mandos. If he were exiled, he would go straight to Manadhien and her servants. He would fall completely under their influence. I want him kept away from her, not sent into her clutches to become a worse person. I even threatened to drag him to the Havens myself, to keep him away from her. But I feared for you if I left. Glilavan is only one threat. One I believed I could manage, since I was at least aware of it. If I took him and left, eliminating that one threat...well, Manadhien has many servants, as Dannenion said. I have seen how you behave with other guards. I do not trust any of them to keep you safe while Manadhien and her servants are still at large." He sighed and slumped against the back of his chair. "I failed to find a way to help Glilavan. And now, there will be nothing I can do to protect you either. Promise me, Legolas, that you will try to work with whomever the king assigns to guard you."

Legolas managed a sad smile. "I think the king will expect the same promise, Tulus. But I promise you also. I will be safe."

Thranduil was shaking his head. "Enough. I have had enough of this. Tulus, go home and stay there. Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, return to the Hall. I want you here when I question Glilavan. You have my word that if he provokes me, I will not lay hands on him in your presence." Without waiting for a response, he stood, raising Tulus and Legolas to their feet. He nodded to Tulus and then placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder, turning him towards the dais and the door to the family quarters behind the throne.

Legolas cast a reassuring look over his shoulder at Tulus as he walked away from him.

* * *

Thranduil sat at the head of his dining table, trying to at least eat, if not enjoy, his breakfast. His stomach rebelled at the sight of it. He would have thoroughly preferred to have a normal, peaceful meal, but normalcy eluded him. The bandages peeking from under Legolas's tunic and the stark bruises still plain on his face saw to that. So did the discussions and decisions looming over his head.

"Do you have petitions scheduled for this morning?" Thranduil asked, looking at Hallion as he passed a plate of sausage to Lindomiel.

Lindomiel gave him a cool look. She did not approve of discussing affairs of the realm at table, unless there was a very serious concern to be addressed. Neither did Thranduil, but unfortunately, there was a very serious concern.

"Yes, my lord," Hallion answered him. "I had planned to begin petitions at the normal time. I can delay them. Or cancel them, if you prefer."

"Cancel them. I want you and Dolgailon in the Hall this morning. We are speaking with Glilavan." He looked between his steward and nephew. "Which of you took responsibility for him? I want him brought to to the Hall immediately after breakfast."

Dolgailon glanced at Hallion. "Took responsibility for him, my lord?" he asked. "I spoke to him when Morillion brought him back to the stronghold with the First and Sixth Years. He explained to me that he had altered some of the conditions of the training drill and he feared that had contributed to...this incident by doing so," he said, looking at Legolas. "But he had sound reasoning for his decisions. I gave him a reprimand, though I might have made the same choices myself under the circumstances, to tell the truth."

Thranduil could not believe what he was hearing. "Where is Glilavan?" he asked when Dolgailon finished speaking. He enunciated each word.

Dolgailon shook his head. "In his cottage, I imagine," he answered.

"Tulus sent him back to the capital, under arrest, and you send him to his cottage?" Thranduil asked, voice rising.

Dolgailon looked at him with wide eyes.

"There did not appear to be any reason to do anything else, my lord," Hallion intervened, now looking at Thranduil with obvious concern.

Thranduil stood from the table, forcing everyone else in the family to rise as well, some of them with forks of food half way to their mouths. He stalked into the corridor and pointed to the guard at the doors that led into public areas of the stronghold. "Send someone to Tulus and Glilavan's cottage and make sure Glilavan is in it. If he is not, begin searching for him." He turned back into the dining room. "When did either of you last see him?"

"Two days ago, my lord," Dolgailon answered.

"Your search should cover a two day travel distance from the stronghold. If you must search, awaken Conuion immediately, tell him Glilavan is missing, and send him to me."

"Yes, my lord," the guard answered, rushing through the doors to comply with that order.

"What is wrong, my lord?" Hallion asked as Thranduil returned to the table. Everyone was still standing and they all looked both alarmed and confused.

"Glilavan was a party to this attack on Legolas. He helped to plan and execute it," Thranduil answered, re-seating himself. He looked at the food on his plate and pushed it away.

Dolgailon leaned forward. "You have proof of that?" he asked. "What proof?"

"Tulus implicated him when he confessed to his own role," Thranduil answered.

Everyone at the table stared at him in response to that statement. Everyone except Legolas. Legolas scowled and pointedly ignored Galithil's whispers.

"Enough of this," Lindomiel intervened quietly. "It belongs in the Great Hall, not in the dining room."

Thranduil nodded to her and everyone, save Thranduil, returned their attention to their plates.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Then the doors to the family quarters opened.

Thranduil looked at the entrance to the dining room as soft footsteps drew nearer in the corridor, willing the person approaching to be the guard coming to inform him that Glilavan had indeed been asleep in his cottage.

Instead Berior entered the dining room.

Thranduil made an effort to smile at him. He had undoubtedly heard Legolas was home and had come from his father's cottage to see for himself that his cousin was in one piece. Despite their late arrival last night, all Legolas's cousins, aunts and uncles that lived inside the stronghold had awakened to welcome him home.

Berior did indeed look first for Legolas as he stepped into the room. Spotting him at his normal place at the table, Berior's eyes widened and darted between bruises and bandages.

"It is nothing, Berior," Legolas assured him quietly, as he had everyone else the night before.

Berior went straight to him and gave him a strong enough embrace to make Legolas wince. "Thank the Valar you are home safely," he said. Then he straightened and looked at Thranduil. "Nana, sent me to speak to you, uncle," he said. "She is very upset. She seems certain that something has happened to adar. Can you tell me where you sent him, so I can tell her? Surely you saw him? We saw that Lanthir and Heledir are back with you and they went with him."

Thranduil made an effort to keep his expression neutral as he listened to Berior. Legolas looked at Thranduil. His face was turned away from Berior, and no one could see it except Thranduil, so Legolas did not bother to conceal his fear.

"Your adar has not returned?" Thranduil asked. He did not add 'with Fuilin and Mauril.' He doubted those names would mean much to Berior, but they would cause an explosion amongst his council members.

Berior shook his head. "Should he have?" his voice starting to sound a little panicked. "Honestly, I do not want to say this in front of nana, but I feel as if something is wrong with him too."

"I sent him ahead of Legolas and I, but he must have been delayed," Thranduil answered. "I will send some guards to look for him. Dolgailon, Hallion, can you come help me with that?" He signaled for everyone else to stay seated as he again arose from the table and hurried from the room.

If something had happened to Celonhael...if Fuilin and Mauril had somehow... Thranduil would make them wish that he had left them to rot in that root cellar.

* * *

It was near the end of the day, rather than immediately after breakfast, that Thranduil entered the Great Hall to speak to Glilavan. Legolas, Dolgailon and Hallion, already seated at the meeting table in the Hall, stood at his approach. So did Galithil. Thranduil frowned. He had not invited Galithil to this interview. Legolas had the right to witness it. He was the injured party. But Thranduil was not certain he wanted to expose Galithil to what might be said. Or done. He clenched his jaw and held his silence, accepting his nephew's presence. For the same reason Legolas attended court, Galithil had always joined him. Galithil had studied law exactly as Legolas had. He might as well see this. He would eventually see something like it. Valar forbid, he might be so unfortunate as to preside over something like it one day.

Coming to stand in front of his chair, Thranduil nodded to Tulus and Dannenion, pleased, and not surprised, that they had kept their words, remained in place and agreed to aid in this interrogation. He was certain they would be needed. Glilavan would never confess. The guards had quickly found him in the forest. Hunting, he had claimed. He did have some small game with him, but he was no where near the normal places the people around the stronghold hunted. He was further south and east. It did not appear that he was trying to escape the capital-he was not nearly far enough away to accuse him of that-but his hunting story made no sense either. Regardless, he had been found and had, apparently, returned willingly. Thranduil did not care if he were trussed up like the game birds he had shot, as long as he appeared in his court to answer his questions.

Hallion signaled the guards at the door and they admitted Glilavan. He walked up the center aisle of the Hall without hesitation.

Thranduil could not suppress a scowl as Glilavan reached the meeting table and immediately dropped to one knee. Not that Thranduil would have failed to order him to his knees, at least eventually, in this interview. It simply seemed as disingenuous as it would to see Dannenion offer the same obeisance willingly.

"My lord, I am so sorry," he said, without waiting for leave to speak. "I was in command of that training exercise. I take complete responsibility for everything that happened during it." He looked up, but faced Legolas, not Thranduil. "I am only relieved that Lord Legolas returned safely. And Anastor also, of course."

Thranduil studied him until Glilavan's gaze dropped back to the floor. Very well, if that was how Glilavan wanted to play this.

"Stand, Captain," Thranduil said, waving him up. "Naturally, I wanted to meet with you about this incident. I might have waited a bit, since Lord Dolgailon already spoke to you, but Tulus and I have being speaking and one conversation leads to another." He paused to give Glilavan time to wonder what that meant. "How can you take responsibility, Glilavan?" he finally asked.

Glilavan's gaze darted from Thranduil to Dolgailon and back. "My lord, I planned the drill and I was its captain. That makes me responsible. Unfortunately, I cannot think of any way we could have prevented this attack. We patrolled carefully for enemies before the drill, but never imagined the enemies would be elves."

"So said the warrior from the patrol, as well," Thranduil replied in a carefully conversational tone. "And naturally that is true. It would occur to almost no one that an elf would attack an elf. An elf other than Manadhien or her servants, that is. Do you know Manadhien? I was under the impression that you did." He finished that statement by looking at Tulus.

Glilavan resolutely did not look at his father. "Of course I know her. I know her very well-since I was a little child. I was around fifteen or so, I think, when I met her. She moved into Dolwon's village at the same time adar and I did. Since nana had so recently sailed, Manadhien was like a mother to me..."

When Glilavan said that, Tulus spun around in his chair to face him, his carefully neutral expression contorting to astonished rage in an instant. He pushed himself up from his chair, took a step towards Glilavan and pointed a finger into his face. "Do not compare that elleth to your naneth in my presence. Your naneth was gentle. She endured incredible hardships with great grace-your sister's disappearance, the loss of our home in Cuivienen, long travels here, your brother's death and her father's in this forest when the orcs came..."

"And my uncles' and oldest brother's deaths on Dagorlad. I am all too aware of these hardships, adar, though they happened before my birth. They took my naneth away from me. Manadhien helped me understand how those hardships drove nana away. She understood because she endured many similar things. She lost her brother in Menegroth and her father in Sirion. Her sister died in Ost-in-Edhil and she barely escaped the House of Mirdain herself with her life."

Thranduil listened to those details with great interest.

"Your naneth is nothing like that elleth," Tulus said. "And Manadhien understands nothing. Nothing but seeking revenge, which is a concept that would never have occurred to your naneth. I warn you that if you compare them again, you will not soon forget the consequences of doing so."

Glilavan looked over his father's shoulder, scanning the meeting table. Thranduil returned his gaze.

"I was only answering the king's question, adar. The simple answer is, yes, I know Manadhien well," Glilavan said quietly.

Tulus stepped back from Glilavan and turned away from him to face the king. "I beg your pardon, my lord," he whispered. Then he dropped heavily into the chair he had occupied before, but now he held his head in his hands, propped up on the table. Legolas laid a hand on Tulus's shoulder and Tulus managed a sad, but clearly appreciative, smile in response.

Glilavan watched that exchange through narrowed eyes.

"Do you know where I could find Manadhien now?" Thranduil asked in an effort to refocus his interrogation.

Glilavan's attention returned to the king. "I have not seen her in years. Since I before I moved to the capital," he replied.

Thranduil sighed. "Six people conspiring with her and not one of them knows where she is. That is completely incredible," he muttered under his breath. He decided to try a different line of questioning to see if Glilavan could be drawn out. "Did you know that the elves that took Legolas and Anastor asked for Anastor by name, Glilavan?"

Glilavan's brows shot up and he shook his head. "No, my lord."

"Indeed," Thranduil replied. "Anastor, along with Legolas, was a target of this attack, not just an unlucky bystander." He paused. "Why were Legolas and Anastor together, Glilavan? I was under the impression that underage members of the training program were paired with adults when participating in drills outside the range of the Capital Guard. In fact, I am quite sure I wrote that law myself."

"That is my responsibility, my lord," Glilavan answered swiftly. "Legolas and Anastor were not supposed to work together, but I decided to change the assignments. My reasoning was that their partners had worked together on a previous drill and conflicted badly. They were reprimanded for their actions."

Thranduil glanced at Legolas. "True?" he mouthed.

Legolas nodded, so Thranduil turned back to Glilavan, who had not stopped speaking.

"I was interested to see if they could manage to work together better on this drill. Since Tulus-an adult-was with Legolas and Anastor, and the Sixth Years were all adults, I deemed the law satisfied. In retrospect, that was obviously not a good decision. It made Legolas and Anastor one easy target..." Glilavan drifted to a stop and adopted a shocked expression.

Tulus openly covered his eyes with his hand.

"Are you suggesting that I was part of this plot to abduct Lord Legolas and Anastor? That I put them in one place, together, for that purpose?" Glilavan asked with an offended tone.

"Yes, I am," Thranduil responded.

Glilavan's jaw dropped. "That would mean I was willing to put my own adar in harm's way," he said.

Thranduil nodded. "Indeed, my next question for you is: why do you suppose Tulus was not killed? The Sixth Years were disposed of. If I were Demil, my first action, after securing Legolas and Anastor, would have been to kill Tulus. He was a witness to the attack and, as a trained member of my Guard with over an Age of experience in it, he would be far more effective and dangerous in a pursuit of Legolas than any member of the patrols. Demil was perfectly willing to kill. Why not kill Tulus?"

Glilavan shook his head. "I have no idea, but I am exceedingly thankful that Demil did not reason as you do. We are speaking of my adar, my lord. I am not sorry to see him alive."

"I believe that, Glilavan. In fact, I think Demil limited his actions against Tulus because that was one of the conditions you bargained for when you agreed to assist in this attack," Thranduil said, now speaking coldly.

Glilavan stared at Thranduil. "My lord, what possible gain would I derive from attacking Legolas? I have nothing against him..."

"A lie," Dannenion muttered.

Thranduil, Hallion and Dolgailon looked at him, eyebrows raised. Glilavan cast him a scathing glare, before trying to appear startled.

Dannenion looked at his hands. "I beg you pardon. I did not intend to interrupt," he said.

"Explain what you meant," Thranduil ordered.

Dannenion shrugged. "It is only...well, even I have heard how Glilavan treats the king's son in the Training Program."

Glilavan turned a betrayed look on Dannenion. "You are right," he said angrily. "That," he pointed at Legolas, "is our king's son. He may, one day, be our king. It is currently my duty to train him to defend this realm. If I am hard on him-and I am-I am very hard on Legolas-it is because he, of all people in this realm, does not have the luxury of learning just enough to stay alive in the patrols. Legolas must learn enough to command this realm's defense. Its entire army. Possibly in battles before the Black Gate. I would like to think him capable of commanding me properly if that should happen." He turned to Legolas. "I assume that is your goal as well, Legolas?" he asked sharply.

Legolas straightened automatically. "Yes, sir, it is."

Glilavan looked back at Dannenion, his expression challenging him to say more. "I stand by my treatment of Legolas. If he has a complaint, he knows he can approach me or any of the other officers or the Troop Commander. Lord Legolas does not have any problems speaking his mind." He turned to Thranduil. "I was not involved in this. If anyone has any proof that I have conspired with Manadhien, Demil or Fuilin to injure the king or his family, let me see it."

Thranduil studied Glilavan silently for a long moment. Then he turned to Tulus. "Do you remember when we arrested Demil?"

"Yes, my lord," Tulus answered, raising his head from his hands to answer. He made an obvious effort to appear respectful, but he was clearly surprised by that question.

"He was speaking to someone," Thranduil continued, watching Glilavan from the corner of his eyes. Glilavan did not flinch. "But no one could see with whom. Where did this conversation take place? Where did you arrest him, Tulus? I believe I remember, but I want to be certain."

Tulus closed his eyes and sank against the back of his chair. "By the training field," he answered. "We arrested Demil by the training field."

Thranduil turned to Glilavan. "Who was Demil speaking to by your training field, Glilavan?"

"Me," Glilavan answered, matter-of-factly. "I knew him and spoke to him when he visited the capital-before learning from adar that he was involved in the murder of the queen's parents, but I did not know that yet when I saw him by the training field that day while walking home for the evening. He said he had come to visit cousins that lived here near the stronghold."

Thranduil laughed. Cousins again! "Are you the cousin he was visiting?"

"No, my lord, my only remaining cousin was killed by men in this forest," Glilavan responded, coldly. "The same men who attacked the queen."

Thranduil sighed. "I am finished with this. Glilavan, tell me how you are associated with Manadhien. How did you and she and her other servants plot this attack against Legolas and Anastor? Where can I find her?"

"I did not plot it or anything else with them, my lord. And I have not seen Manadhien in many years. I cannot answer those questions," he responded without hesitation.

Thranduil turned to Tulus. "Say now what you told me last night," he ordered.

Tulus took a deep breath and complied, eyes fixed on the table. "Glilavan is guilty of treason, my lord," he began, his voice dull.

Glilavan's eyes widened and he stared at his father in disbelief.

Dolgailon sucked in a sharp breath, leaning forward to better see Tulus as he spoke. Tulus did not look up.

"He confessed to me after Lord Amglaur's death that he was plotting with Manadhien. Specifically, he told me that he hoped to devise with her some way to eliminate Lord Legolas while injuring me as little a possible. And that is what Glilavan did when he arranged to put Lord Legolas and Anastor together on the forest border."

"Elbereth!" Dolgailon whispered, before covering his mouth with his hand.

"Adar, what are you doing? How can you accuse me of treason! In the presence of half the court! Without any evidence to back up that accusation!" Glilavan exclaimed, speaking over him.

Tulus looked at his son, tears welling in his eyes. "I had hoped you could be saved, but I no longer believe that is possible. That being so, I can only prevent you from doing more harm. To yourself or others."

"If that is true, adar...if that is what you truly believe...take the final step," Glilavan said, his tone now bitter.

"I intend to, but not in any way that you have ever imagined," Tulus responded.

Thranduil studied them narrowly. "What does that mean, Tulus?" he demanded.

Tulus remained silent.

Thranduil's jaw clenched, but he turned to Dannenion. "Now you repeat what you said last night."

Dannenion's voice trembled when he spoke. "I have known since before my arrest for treason that Glilavan conspired with Manadhien by sending her information about troop movements. I have known the entire time that I have lived in the capital that Glilavan has continued to use his position as an officer to obtain information to send to Manadhien. He occasionally gave me his reports to her to send along with my own."

Glilavan glared at him.

Hand still covering his mouth, Dolgailon shook his head. His other hand, resting on the table, was balled into a fist.

"Tulus and Dannenion have both denounced you," Thranduil said. "You were seen speaking to Demil. And you are responsible for making Legolas and Anastor one target. I judge that is enough evidence to convict you of treason. Of plotting to kill Lord Legolas. I gave you an opportunity to confess to your crimes because I will be far more merciful if you do so. One last chance, Glilavan: explain to me why you committed these crimes, at the very least. If you truly want my mercy, tell me how to find Manadhien."

"I have nothing to confess," Glilavan stated, back straight and chin raised. His face had gone as still as the carvings on the pillars in the Hall.

Tulus turned away from him. "I cannot comprehend how you could help to plot an attack in which an elf, any elf, but especially your own adar, might have been killed. Was likely to be killed. One in which children were to be taken from their families and given into a life...a life that would not have ended quickly enough. You are not my son. I have no son that would do such a thing willingly."

"Tulus," Legolas admonished in a whisper. "These might be the last words you share with Glilavan outside of Aman. Think carefully what you want them to be."

Thranduil ignored them all. "Before I decide how to sentence you, Glilavan, tell me if you are being forced to act against your will. Manadhien threatened Dannenion with Anastor and Maidhien's lives. Is she threatening you somehow? Threatening your adar, perhaps? I know, for example, that she has reports that he wrote. About Legolas. Did she threaten to incriminate your adar if you did not obey her?"

Glilavan shook his head. "She has never threatened me. I had nothing to do with this attack. I expect punishment for allowing it to happen, because I commanded the drill. It is my responsibility. But I am not confessing to treason today, because I have not committed that crime. If she has reports in adar's handwriting, and you know that-you have proven it-how is it that I am the one being accused of treason? Perhaps it was adar that plotted with Demil to betray Legolas. The evidence supports that: he is in a far better position to betray Legolas, as his guard; he has communicated with Manadhien, apparently; and if he helped plot the attack, that would explain why he received only a token injury. How am I to be convicted on the word of two people who are known to have committed treason-their word and nothing more-when the evidence points to a much more logical explanation?"

Thranduil glared at Glilavan silently. Refusal to speak was foolish. Involvement in these crimes was appalling. But trying to shift blame to his own father...

"You are truly more foul than a maggot on an orc's corpse, Glilavan," Legolas said before anyone else could speak.

Thranduil blinked and turned sharply to his son. "That language has no place in this court," he said.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Legolas responded, but he did not take his eyes from Glilavan, or change his tone in the slightest. "Your adar has concealed your crimes for years," he continued without pause, "exposing himself to a conviction of treason, all in the interest of trying to extricate you from the trouble you caused yourself, and this is how you repay his love for you? By agreeing with Demil that getting shot in the arm and stabbed in the shoulder would be 'token injuries?' Shall I give you the same wounds and see if you still feel they are tokens? But worst of all, you would falsely accuse your own adar when you are caught? I cannot imagine how, with a father like Tulus, you came to such thoughts or deeds. What witchcraft does Manadhien weave to twist your mind so?"

"My own adar has accused me of treason. If that is how he demonstrates his love for me, I would prefer to not have his love. If that is how he demonstrates his love for me, I prefer Manadhien's love."

Tulus rose from the table. "What did you say? Look at me and say it again."

"Tulus, sit back down," Thranduil ordered. Legolas grasped Tulus's forearm, but Tulus took a step closer to Glilavan, pulling away from him.

"Manadhien would protect me, or anyone else, from the sort of love the king will soon show me because of what you said, adar," Glilavan responded, facing off with his adar. "You were offended that I compared nana to Manadhien earlier? How do you think nana will feel when she finds out that you sent her last son to Mandos Halls?"

Tulus took another step towards Glilavan, raising his right hand as he did.

"Tulus!" Thranduil called. Legolas stood and made another effort to restrain his guard, but Tulus would not be stopped.

Neither would Glilavan. He shrugged in a dismissive manner. "I imagine that she will feel the same as she did when you sent your oldest son to Mandos Halls yourself, by standing him in front of Oropher in Mordor. At least nana cannot fade, again, in Aman, when she learns of my death. But I..."

Tulus stopped his son by slapping him across the face with his open hand. Not hard. Not even enough to turn his head. But the sound rang out in the silence that followed, as Tulus looked at his son, grief-stricken, and Glilavan glared back at him.

Legolas stepped between them, facing Tulus and put a hand on each of his shoulders. "Do not listen to him," he whispered. "Just sit down and let the king finish this." He pushed Tulus back a step. Tulus let his hand fall to his side and yielded ground.

Thranduil watched them, tensely, something tingling at the edge of his senses.

"The king will finish this...," Glilavan said quietly.

Thranduil stood, eyeing Glilavan's posture.

"...but not before I finish something else."

The sound of a knife sliding from its sheath sent everyone in the room into a flurry of motion. Thranduil drew his own knife. In his peripheral vision, he saw Hallion, Galithil and Dolgailon do the same. Hallion moved to defend the king. Galithil rushed towards Legolas. Dolgailon lunged at Glilavan. They were both too far away to do any good. Neither could Thranduil help his son. Legolas stood between Thranduil and Glilavan, making it impossible for Thranduil to even throw his knife to stop Glilavan, or at least force him back.

Tulus shoved Legolas aside. He and Conuion dove towards Glilavan and Legolas spun to face him, his right hand grazing the hilt of his own knife. Too late. Thranduil, not breathing, pushed Hallion aside, meaning to go over the table at Glilavan, as the knife in Glilavan's hand slashed at Legolas's throat. Legolas raised his left arm to deflect the attack and the knife bit into his forearm. He sucked air across his teeth, but he did not draw his arm down.

Hand on Glilavan's chest, Tulus pushed him back, away from Legolas. With his other hand, he reached for Glilavan's wrist and twisted it sharply. With a cry, Glilavan dropped the knife. Tulus kicked it away and pulled Glilavan's arm behind his back, holding him in place.

Hands on the surface of the table, Thranduil froze. He first assured himself that Tulus was, indeed, properly restraining Glilavan. Then he scanned Legolas, whose back was still partially towards him as he faced his attacker. Blood dripped to the floor at his feet. Thranduil's breath caught in his throat.

Legolas held his arm against his body, his opposite hand clutched over the wound Glilavan had inflicted. Blood seeped between his fingers. He looked from it, to Glilavan and then he half turned to face Thranduil. "I suppose there is no longer any doubt, my lord, who, between Tulus and Glilavan, is guilty of treason," he said with far more calm than Thranduil felt himself, looking at the deep gash on Legolas's arm. It could have been his throat.

As Tulus shifted Glilavan into Conuion's grasp, Legolas turned his back to them all to return to the table. He unbuttoned his tunic with the fingers of his right hand, pulled it off and wrapped it around his arm, holding it tightly in place. Tulus followed him closely.

Thranduil was drawing a breath to tell Legolas to go to the healer when Glilavan erupted into motion again.

Conuion was still adjusting his grasp on Glilavan. He held his right arm twisted behind his back, as it was when Tulus passed Glilavan to him. Conuion grasped his left arm above the elbow, pinning it to his side. Glilavan twisted in his grasp to distract him. At the same time, he raised his right foot enough to reach for his boot knife with his left hand. In a swift motion, he drew the knife and balanced it to throw at Legolas's back. Conuion struck his arm as he released the knife, but it still flew towards its target.

"Legolas!" Thranduil, Hallion, Galithil and Dolgailon all cried out.

Legolas had already turned sharply to again face Glilavan in response to the sound of the knife sliding from its sheath.

Tulus did not waste time turning to look behind himself. He grabbed Legolas's shirt collar and dragged him in front of him, so that he stood between Legolas and Glilavan. Then he pulled Legolas against him, forced his head down and hunched over him, holding him in place with a bear hug. He did not release Legolas even when his body jerked involuntarily as the knife stabbed into his upper back. Legolas staggered under Tulus's weight as he slumped forward.

"Tulus!" Legolas whispered, twisting in his grasp enough to use two handfuls of tunic to prevent his guard from falling to his knees.

Conuion now had Glilavan face down on the ground, his knee on his back, pinning his right arm behind him. Galithil's boot crushed Glilavan's left wrist to the stone floor.

Thranduil rushed to Legolas's side and pulled him back as Dolgailon took Tulus by both arms and eased him to the edge of the nearest chair. Legolas dodged out of Thranduil's grasp and around Galithil. He ran to Tulus's side. Dolgailon had him leaned forward, inspecting the knife protruding from his back.

"It does not appear to be too deep," Dolgailon breathed.

That was true. The knife sagged under the weight of its hilt.

Dolgailon's fingers probed around the tip of the knife, causing Tulus to stifle a moan. "It was not a solid hit. Not strong enough for the blade to turn between his ribs. I think it is safe to pull it out." He looked at Hallion and Thranduil, for their opinions.

Thranduil came closer, both to better see Tulus's wound and to put an arm around Legolas.

"Just do it!" Tulus grunted. "Take it out!"

Thranduil nodded to Dolgailon, who was now pulling off his own tunic and wadding it in his left hand as his right eased out the knife. Blood flowed from the wound, but did not spurt from it. Nor did Thranduil hear the sucking sound that almost always signified a mortal wound. Dolgailon handed the knife to Legolas and used one hand to hold his tunic against Tulus's back, while placing the other on Tulus's chest to press him back and keep pressure against the wound.

"Get Nestoreth," Thranduil ordered the guard from the doors. He had raced into the room, sword drawn, when Glilavan first pulled a knife. Then Thranduil turned to look at Glilavan, still prone on the floor. He felt his blood rising at the sight of him and restrained himself from descending upon him there and then with an effort that he was not entirely certain would be sufficient.

Focused entirely on Glilavan, Thranduil did not notice that Legolas had righted his grasp on the bloodied knife that Dolgailon had handed him.

In one swift motion, Legolas dropped onto one knee, next to Conuion, and gathered a fist full of Glilavan's hair, pulling his head back. Then he pressed the tip of the knife against Glilavan's neck, under his ear. "You are a coward," he snarled. "Attacking my back not once, but twice. An utterly contemptible coward."

Not even breathing could be heard in the Hall.

"Legolas, come here. Now." Thranduil ordered, keeping his voice firm and calm.

Legolas jerked Glilavan's head back a bit further, forcing a gasp from him as he drove the tip of the knife just deep enough to draw a trickling stream of blood.

"I am responsible for administering justice in this court, Legolas. Not you," Thranduil said. "Come here, now."

Legolas ignored him and spoke into Glilavan's ear. "Fortunately for you, I respect your adar far more than you do. When he confessed to treason for protecting you, he told me that his wish was to die before you so that he did not have to witness your execution. I will not dishonor the sacrifice he just made by forcing him to witness me kill you." He pulled the knife away and released Glilavan's hair, allowing his head to fall forward and hit the floor. "You are very fortunate, Glilavan. If you had killed your father while trying to kill me, nothing, not even the king's command, would have held my hand. You are not worthy of a father like Tulus. Your cowardice starkly, and most unfavorably, contrasts with his courage. You would do well to set him as an example for your actions rather than that witch that you have followed until now."

Saying that, he stood and tossed away Glilavan's knife, sending it skittering across the floor to the far side of the Hall. He scooped up his tunic, which had fallen from his arm, and walked to Thranduil's side while wrapping it around his wound.

Thranduil drew his son against himself, an arm solidly around his shoulder. Then he looked at the wide eyed stares aimed at Legolas from Hallion, Dolgailon and Galithil.

"I find you guilty of treason, Glilavan," Thranduil said quietly. "And as Lord Legolas said, you are very fortunate. Fortunate that Tulus pleaded with me yesterday for your life and fortunate that I gave him my word that I would not lay hands on you in his presence. Since I made that promise, perhaps I will manage to rein in my temper before I decide what I will do with you. In the meantime, I am ordering you held in the stronghold." He signaled for Conuion to remove him.

Conuion hauled Glilavan to his feet by his belt and the back of his tunic collar, spinning him to face the doors of the Hall.

"I cannot believe what I just saw with my own eyes," Tulus whispered as Glilavan was led away, "I cannot bear to see my son fall in this manner. The king offered you mercy today, Glilavan. I wish so desperately that you had accepted it."

Glilavan shook his head and did not so much as glance back over his shoulder.

*~*~*


	8. This business will be finished

**Chapter 8: This business will be finished**

Legolas sorted quickly through the papers at the end of the meeting table, making three piles: one of reports from the patrols that Galithil would summarize for Dolgailon, one of petitions that he would read in a moment and one much smaller stack of general correspondence that Hallion would sort through to decide which needed the king's personal attention. He tidied Dolgailon and Hallion's papers and put them in their respective places. Then he pulled the lamp a little closer on the table and picked up the first petition. He rolled his eyes. The seal on it showed Maethorness had sent it. She certainly wasted no time asking for a return of the paltry amount of supplies the king and his party had used during their brief stop in her village. Legolas glanced over her dense script, confirmed that was indeed the purpose of her request and noted that she was claiming far more supplies than he remembered seeing consumed. That was just so typical of her! He tossed it aside and reached for another petition. Hers could wait.

He was almost entirely through the stack, summaries neatly recorded, when he heard raised voices in the antechamber.

"You cannot bring that into the stronghold!" one of the Gate Guards exclaimed loudly. "I will not allow it. No arguments!"

Despite the demand for no arguments, another voice insisted upon seeing the king.

Legolas stood and silently walked down the center aisle of the Hall towards the oak doors. If Thranduil or any of the court were present, there would be a guard at those doors as well. Since it was well before dawn, the doors stood open and unguarded. Legolas approached them with caution, hand on the hilt of his knife. The Gate Guard sounded offended, not alarmed. What ever it was that the person trying to enter the stronghold had, it did not sound dangerous. Nevertheless, the Guard would not grant them admittance, so something was amiss and caution was warranted.

"I must bring this to the king," the person-a warrior-was saying as Legolas approached closely enough to see and hear them clearly. The warrior held a leather sack. A heavy one. From its shape and weight, Legolas was immediately reminded of Anastor's obsession with that sack of gold the men had paid. But whatever this sack held, it was bigger still than the sack of gold. And it stank. Foodstuffs that had spoiled, perhaps? The Gate Guards held their hands over their noses and mouths. Even from this distance, Legolas could smell...it was sort of like rancid meat, but even worse. Why would the warrior want to bring that to the king? The Gate Guards were right to stop him. If some of the supplies sent to the patrols were bad, a letter requesting more would suffice. Evidence of the problem was not necessary. Simply throw the spoilt food into the midden and be done with it.

"Can I help you with something?" Legolas asked, taking a few steps into the antechamber, but remaining well away from the warrior's foul sack. His nose wrinkled involuntarily as a breeze through the open doors blew towards him.

"This fool wants to bring that inside," the Guard said, pointing at the sack. "I told him that he may not."

"I must speak to the king," the warrior said, talking over the Guard. "Immediately."

Legolas involuntarily raised an eyebrow. Demand to wake the king from his bed, 'immediately,' in the mood he is in given the experiences of the last few days, and present him with a stinky sack-that may not turn out as well as you hoped, he thought. "The king is not yet awake," was what he said out loud. "I cannot disturb his rest for spoilt supplies, but if you leave that outside, you may come into the Hall and give me a list of what your patrol requires. I can probably have it made ready for you by early morning."

The warrior shook his head. "I am not here to complain about spoilt supplies, my lord. Lord Legolas, correct?"

Legolas nodded. He did not recognize this warrior. He was not the usual messenger from his patrol, nor was he an officer.

"Ostarndor sent me. With this. To speak to the king. Only the king. Please get him for me."

Legolas's brows climbed and he eyed the sack. "If not spoilt supplies, what did your captain send to the king?" Legolas asked.

"I was told to speak to the king only," the warrior replied. "Please, my lord, will you get him?" He sounded a little desperate.

Legolas would be desperate if he traveled from the territory of the Southern Patrol with that smell following him the entire way.

The Gate Guard loose a loud hurumph. "There is no possibility we are awakening the king so you can give him that sack. He will stuff us in there for doing something that stupid."

The warrior turned on the Guard. "You will deserve it if you keep this message from him," he retorted, waving the sack in his face.

The Guard took a step back.

"The contents of that sack are the actual message for the king?" Legolas exclaimed. He pitied the person who sent that as a message!

The warrior nodded gravely. "Yes, my lord."

Legolas held out his hand. "Bring it to me," he said. "Let him pass."

"My captain said I was to speak to the king only," the warrior said, but he seemed less certain than before and relieved to have simply been let into the stronghold.

"Well, I am also not willing to awaken the king until I have a better idea of why I am doing so," Legolas said, reaching for the sack as the warrior finally came to stand before him.

The warrior did not release the sack. In fact, he held it behind his back as he looked at Legolas closely, his gaze lingering on the bruises on his face. "My lord, I beg your pardon, but, how old are you? Old enough to join one of the guards?"

Legolas scowled. "Not yet, but I am old enough to know better than to awaken the king of this realm for a reeking sack whose purpose and contents you refuse to identify," he said, now reaching for the sack and intending to take it.

The warrior stepped back, out of his reach. "I am not letting a child look into this sack, even if that child is the king's son," he said quietly while he groped with his free hand in the quiver on his back.

Legolas's heart raced at the movement and his own hand dove to his belt. The guard at the door to the family quarters, Lanthir it was tonight, drew his sword and took several steps forward.

The warrior drew a silver arrow with blue fletchings from his quiver. "The captain said this would be important to the king. Will you awaken him for it?"

Legolas reached slowly for the arrow, staring at it as he rolled it between his fingers. Traces of blood stained the tip. His gaze darted back to the sack. "What is in that sack?" he demanded, but his voice was no more than a whisper and his pulse was racing for a much different reason.

"Will you awaken the king, my lord?" the warrior repeated.

In a swift motion, Legolas gripped the warrior's arm with his free hand, preventing him from moving back again. With the hand that held the arrow, Legolas snatched away the sack. He let go of the warrior and held the top edges of the sack in both hands, preparing to pull it open. It was held shut by a loose slip knot.

"You will regret that, my lord. Do not do it," the warrior warned.

Holding his breath, Legolas opened the sack the slightest bit and peered inside. He saw hair. Long hair tangled around something. A face. A bit of nose poked through the hair.

At first, Legolas's mind refused to put together what hair and a nose could be doing in a sack. It just made absolutely no sense. Especially since, still staring at the absurd sight, that nose and hair color looked so much like...

Recognition hit Legolas hard. He twisted the top of the sack shut and closed his eyes tightly.

This could not be.

No longer even registering the smell of decay, Legolas took a deep breath and opened the sack again, wider, to confirm what he did not want to believe he had seen.

It was true.

Inside the sack was his uncle Celonhael's head. Nothing more.

"Lanthir," Legolas choked out, barely able to draw air around the bile rising in his throat. "First awaken Hallion and tell him I need him in the Hall immediately. Then go ask the king to come to the Hall. Do not let the queen come with him under any circumstances."

"Yes, my lord." Lanthir replied. He sketched a quick bow, eyes lingering on the sack, and ran through the doors to the family quarters.

Legolas looked back at the warrior. "You come with me," he said, turning back into the Hall.

By the time all was said and done, the entire household had been awakened, which, under the circumstances, was to be expected.

Legolas questioned the warrior quickly before Thranduil and Hallion arrived, and he had the basic information ready for them when they appeared in the Hall. Thranduil called for the rest of the family and informed them that Celonhael had been found dead, leaving out the worst details. He then dispatched Lindomiel to deliver the news and comfort Ollwen and Berior. Galithil went with her. Sadly, he and Berior now had far too much in common-the loss of their fathers. Dolgailon was in his office, issuing dispatches to the southern, western and eastern patrols. News of the murder of the king's councilor and Fuilin and Mauril's escape would reach the far borders of the realm swiftly. Only Engwe remained in the Hall with Thranduil and Hallion. He and Legolas sat at the far end of the meeting table, currently beneath the king's notice.

Thranduil's voice rang out in the Hall, questioning the warrior for the third time. Like Legolas, neither Thranduil nor Hallion could be prevented from looking inside the sack. So this news, which under the best of circumstances would have driven Thranduil to deep grief, had sickened him, both emotionally and almost physically.

"It was brought to the patrol's base camp?" he repeated.

The warrior nodded patiently. It did not seem to surprise him in the least to have to repeat this story so many times. Or unnerve him. He faced the king's wrath so bravely that Legolas wondered if he were one of the Sindarin elves that followed Oropher east and had known Thranduil long before he was a king.

If Legolas thought he had seen his father angry before, he was wrong. He had never seen anyone actually shake with rage, but Thranduil did so now as he continued his questions.

"Tied shut around that arrow?" he asked.

Again the warrior nodded.

"You found nothing else?"

"We did a thorough search, but...I am sorry, my lord. No."

"And the elf that gave it to you?"

"A villager. From Maethorness's village. He was in the forest hunting and found it. Hanging in a low branch of a tree. He thought it might be something important one of the patrols had lost, given the silver paint on the arrow. That is certainly unusual. Ostarndor opened it, to determine what it was. And he ordered me to bring it straight to you and no one else."

That was a good order. It meant that Celonhael's wife and son had been spared the horror of seeing the contents of that sack. Conuion had removed it immediately. Legolas had no idea to where, nor did he want to know.

Thranduil's questions dug into the details of the villager's gruesome discovery and Legolas tried not to listen. He wished Galithil and Dolgailon had stayed in the Hall, but he understood why they had not. Berior needed Galithil far more than Legolas did at the moment, and Dolgailon had duties to attend to.

"What were you doing in the Hall at this hour, child?" Engwe whispered into Legolas's ear as Thranduil continued his questioning.

His tone was concerned, but Legolas's back stiffened involuntarily nonetheless. "Working," he answered.

"You are just like your adar, thinking that you can work your way to forgetfulness. It will not help, You need rest so that you can heal," Engwe said. "And you questioned this warrior yourself? Did you look...inside?"

Legolas only nodded in reply to that, chin held high. He had not sought his uncle Engwe's advice, nor did he really want it. He certainly did not want to be coddled.

Engwe shook his head and appeared ready to say more.

Fortunately, Thranduil chose that moment to stand, raising Legolas to his feet and distracting Engwe. "You may go find some rest," Thranduil was saying to the warrior. The warrior bowed and exited the Hall. Legolas turned his back on Engwe and stepped over to his normal place at the table, standing behind his chair.

Thranduil still did not appear to notice him. "Send someone to prepare my horse and bring me my sword and bow," he was saying to Conuion.

Legolas's eyes widened. Conuion said nothing in response.

"Bring at least Pendurion and Belloth with us and be prepared to be gone for as long as it takes," Thranduil continued. He pointed at his guard, to emphasize his words. "Weeks. Months, if necessary, Conuion. What ever it takes. I am finding them."

One side of Conuion's mouth turned down in an almost disapproving manner, but he only bowed.

"You are going to hunt for Fuilin yourself, adar?" Legolas asked, unable to contain his surprise.

Thranduil looked at him as if only just realizing he was still present. "Yes, I am," he confirmed, voice cold. "If Fuilin thinks to escape his fate in this way, then he will find that he is gravely mistaken. They will not hide from me. I will find them and finish this. If it takes me a yen, I will find them."

Legolas was not terribly shocked by any of those words. Of course, at this point, little would have shocked him, but he could not help but worry about his father if he did this. The king would find it difficult, at best, to travel secretly through the forest. Fuilin, in contrast, could slip into the shadows easily. He would have a tremendous advantage on this hunt.

"That is absurd, Thranduil," Engwe said, coming up along the opposite side of the table, across from Legolas. "How do you expect to find them? You have no idea where to look for them. They will not have stayed near Maethorness's village."

Thranduil ignored him. He nodded to Conuion him, signaling him to go prepare their departure.

"My lord," Hallion said, before Engwe could continue his argument. "I will need at least a few hours of your time before you leave..."

Thranduil shook his head and drew a breath, apparently to refuse that request, but Hallion did not stop speaking.

"You will need to tell me your decisions regarding Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon, so that I can serve those sentences. We also need to finalize the treaties concerning hunting rights that Lindomiel is going to deliver to Dale. She leaves next week. And she wanted to speak to you about some of the purchases she will be making in there. We can no longer continue using the same wool supplier. He has died and without a son to carry on his business, but the other available merchants come with their own problems. She wants your opinions." Hallion looked down to hide a grimace. "And, frankly my lord, we will need to discuss who will assume Celonhael's duties. The men will expect payment for the supplies that will soon be coming up the river. You and Celonhael are really the only ones to have worked on those figures. I am not familiar enough with them to manage that alone."

By the end of that litany of responsibilities, Thranduil was frowning severely.

Conuion had not yet left the Hall. "I would prefer that you select Legolas's guard before we leave, my lord," he added. "So that we can have that settled and Legolas properly protected while Fuilin and Mauril are at large."

"In addition to all that, this is a terrible time for you to be abroad because Dolgailon will be busy with the Training Program, since Glilavan will no longer be captaining it," Engwe added. "I imagine he will have some reordering to do amongst his captains, so he can cover all the patrols and the training. That will take some work and possibly some travel on his part to settle everyone into place. With him so busy, there will be no one available to help Hallion with petitions. Of course, you could tell Dolgailon to let me manage the patrols while he helps Hallion."

Legolas's gaze darted to his father to watch his reaction to that suggestion. Thranduil had made it plain that he did not want Engwe to manage the patrols when he promoted Dolgailon to that position instead of Engwe. Something that Engwe had never quite forgotten. Not surprisingly, Thranduil scowled at his uncle.

"I can help, adar," Legolas said quietly. "Until Dolgailon is free, I can help Hallion. That ought to keep me safe in the Hall most of the time if you cannot decide quickly on a guard."

"If you intend to be gone any length of time, I will need help, my lord," Hallion said. "Without Celonhael, with Lindomiel in Dale for two weeks and Golwon leaving to distribute supplies to the villages soon after that, and with Dolgailon occupied with the Training Program, the council will be three people down at all times-and that is not counting you. We were considering how to expand the council before. Now we must do it."

"The best option is for you to remain here, analyze the information we have to try to locate Fuilin and Mauril, and wait for the patrols or your spies to arrest them," Engwe concluded.

"We do not have any information to analyze, Engwe," Thranduil responded.

"I thought you said that both Glilavan and Fuilin told you some details about Manadhien that you never knew before. There might be something in them that could help us find her," Engwe said.

"Glilavan confirmed that her father was killed in Sirion and her brother in Menegroth," Thranduil answered, his tone short. "Since they are not Sindar, but rather Noldor, we can conclude that they were not innocent victims in either of those places. And he said her sister died in Ost-in-Edhil, presumably when Sauron attacked it. Fuilin said her father's name was Ulcamarto, as if that is a real name. And he mentioned that he became Ulcamarto's servant after they escaped Angband together. Since Manadhien and Fuilin are not in Menegroth, Sirion, Ost-in-Edhil or Angband currently, none of that helps me find them. So I will have to hunt them down. If you think that I am going to sit in this stronghold idly and wait for her to send me the head of another member of my household, you are as insane as she is."

As Engwe listened to that monologue, his expression grew increasingly serious.

"What, Engwe?" Thranduil snapped.

Engwe shook his head, "I did not know any Ulcamarto with two daughters and a son amongst the Noldor, but I did know an Alcaremarto, who had a son, Oromarto, and two daughters-Manarinde and Muinandilme. They were members of Curufin's household. I first met them when the High King sent your adar and I with Celeborn to inquire as to why the princes of the Noldor had not sent any messengers to greet him when they returned."

Thranduil studied Engwe cautiously. "The names of the father and the daughter are similar, I grant you that. But there were certainly many Noldorin fathers with a son and two daughters. And who knows what their right names are. They probably do not even know themselves anymore."

Engwe nodded. "Possibly, but this I do know: you killed Alcaremarto-the father-in Sirion. I saw you do it."

Thranduil's eyes widened.

"And I saw Oropher kill Oromarto-the brother-in Menegroth," Engwe added. "These are the same people, Thranduil. They have to be."

Thranduil drew a deep breath and sank back into his chair, staring at Engwe. "Then I think we have solved some of the mystery of why Manadhien hates my family so." He glanced at Legolas with an expression that appeared uncomfortable-almost guilty. "And here may be another, less significant, piece of it," he continued. "The last time that adar sent me to Ost-in-Edhil, I had a brief dalliance with a maiden there. Her name was Muinandilme. She was not particularly memorable, but I recall her name because, when I met her, I asked her what it meant. Even in that language, I found it musical."

"I remember her," Conuion said. "I told you to stay away from her. She struck me as...shadowed. And she likely was given how many times we saw her in Annatar's company."

Despite the gravity of this topic, Legolas had been amused by the discussion of his father's 'dalliance.' His jaw dropped at the mention of Annatar. "You saw him?" he could not help but exclaim. "You were in Ost-in-Edhil when _he_ was there and you actually saw him?"

Thranduil turned a carefully controlled look on his son. "I spoke to him. I sat at table with him once. With he and Muinandilme."

Legolas took a step back, horrified.

Thranduil only nodded. "Muinandilme was one of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain," he continued. "She told me her sister was also, though I never met her. Conuion would not tolerate my association with Muinandilme, so I let it go fairly quickly. It was never even slightly serious. She was a Noldo, so it did not matter to me."

"Was she offended when you stopped paying her attention?" Engwe asked.

Thranduil laughed. "Not at all. She fancied my hair, and, very likely, my title. Not me. But it was she that approached me and not the other way around..."

"I should hope so," Engwe muttered. "A Noldo!"

"...so perhaps she knew who I was and intended me harm even then." They all stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Thranduil spoke again. "As pleased as I am to have some of that mystery solved, it does not help me solve the most important one: where are Fuilin and Mauril? And their mistress."

"Perhaps Glilavan knows," Engwe suggested.

Thranduil turned an astonished and annoyed expression on his uncle. "I am obviously too angry to think if that did not occur to me. An excellent suggestion," he said.

Legolas hid a smirk in response to the fact that his father sounded surprised that Engwe could be useful.

"After all," Engwe continued, "he was hunting _something_ between the stronghold and Maethorness's village when we found him. And none of us truly believed it was quail."

Thranduil stood, his posture rigid, and turned towards the door behind the throne. "Too true."

Engwe, Hallion and Conuion followed close on his heels. Legolas did not move.

Thranduil looked back at him from the height of the dais. "You do not care to speak to Glilavan with me?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head, ignoring Hallion and Engwe's surprise at the invitation. "He has made three attempts on my life and that is more than enough to suit me. I think I will stay here." The truth was, Legolas did not care to see this interview. He had seen all the horrors he wanted to see for a very long while.

Thranduil only nodded. "Get started on those petitions, then," he said, gesturing to the papers at the end of the table.

"They are ready for Hallion to review," Legolas responded.

That made Thranduil and Hallion's brows climb. "Is that what you were doing in the Hall? The reason why you were here so early to meet this warrior?"

"Yes. I was awake and thought I would get an early start," Legolas replied.

Thranduil studied him for a moment. "Get some rest then," he ordered.

* * *

Legolas did not leave the Great Hall as his father had suggested. He was still there, sitting in his normal place at the meeting table. He had been there long enough now that his stomach had begun to remind him that they had all missed breakfast. Even so, he did not feel much like eating. He wondered idly if his father and uncles had gone to eat. Or to check on Ollwen and Berior.

Or if they were still questioning Glilavan.

He shook his head and made an effort to turn his thoughts away from that possibility and everything it implied. He found himself staring at the tapestry behind the throne-a map of the forest overlaid with the royal crest. His mother wove the original version of this tapestry for his father as a wedding present and she re-wove it when he moved the capital north. As Legolas understood it, Manadhien ... Marti ... Manarinde ... whatever she called herself...destroyed the very first attempt Lindomiel had made at this tapestry, thus making the first volley in the war they currently fought.

He sighed. Why did his thoughts constantly come back to Glilavan and Manadhien and her servants? He ran his gaze over the map, trying to distract himself.

Where in the forest could Manadhien be?

Somewhere in the south, Dannenion thought. That made sense. Closer to the stronghold lived the elves that most loved Thranduil. She would have as little tolerance for them as they would have for her. But even in the furthest reaches of the realm, the elves supported the king and she had to be living in a village amongst them. Living alone would be too dangerous-something that would draw attention from the patrols, who would never allow it.

She could probably manage living in a village if she were smart enough to keep her views to herself, but what could Manadhien possibly contribute to a village to earn the privilege of living in one? He could not imagine her helping to gather berries or honey or nuts or any other foodstuff. He shrugged. Maybe she did. She would have to do something and the only skills she had that he knew of were weaving and jewel working-skills no one cared about in the south.

Weaving and jewel-working. Surely that should stand out. The vast majority of elves in the south were Silvan and none of them had either of those skills. Of course, she almost certainly did not currently practice them. She did not weave in the south. Nana managed the distribution of wool purchased from the men. And dyes were difficult to find in the healthy, northern forest. In the south, they must be next to impossible to obtain. She definitely did not practice gem work any longer. As the village leader in Dolgailon's village once told him, there are no gems to work in the forest.

Legolas sucked in a long, slow breath and he sat upright, straight as an arrow. Moralfien! She claimed to be a jewel smith. She had offered to make a ring for Galithil. Legolas's heart began to pound uncomfortably. And she had that tapestry in her talan. That very elaborate tapestry that she claimed she wove herself. Legolas heard her openly mock Sindar rule in Lothlorien. While speaking to Dannenion and Dolwon, who had traveled to visit her.

Moralfien could not possibly be Manadhien! Dannenion said he did not know where she was and he certainly knew exactly where Moralfien was-she was governing the largest village in the south. Dolgailon's village, whose guards were armed with swords that Moralfien purchased- with jewels.

Legolas stood. This could not be possible.

If this were true, why would Dannenion not admit to knowing where Manadhien was? He promised the king that he would help find her.

Unless he had lied!

Legolas took several long steps towards the back of the Hall, looking at the open doors, trying to determine if Conuion had sent a guard to stand at them, since he was in the Hall. Apparently he had expected Legolas to follow Thranduil's order to rest. There was no guard. Legolas scowled. His father would lock him in a cell if he went outside the stronghold unescorted with Fuilin on the loose, but he needed to speak to Tulus. He would just have to find an available guard. He half-jogged, half-marched to the doors of the Hall, passed through them and looked to where Galuauth was now guarding the doors to the family quarters. He was not allowed to leave that post unattended, but Legolas wondered if he could persuade him to do so, at least long enough to escort him to Tulus's cottage.

As Legolas deliberated over whether ask, Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon all emerged from the corridor that led to the guest quarters, their heads together. Tulus and Dannenion flanked Dolwon and were all but pulling him along with them. They headed in the direction of the Great Hall and frowned when they saw the doors open and unguarded.

Then Tulus spotted Legolas. "The king is not in the Hall?" he called, striding towards Legolas.

Dolwon was already protesting that if Thranduil was not present, they might as well leave, but Dannenion held him in place surprisingly effectively considering his injuries.

Legolas did not look at Tulus. He was staring at Dannenion. "I am going to ask you a question, Dannenion," he said. "And I expect an honest answer."

Dannenion's eyebrows went up.

"You have no right to speak to us in that manner," Dolwon exclaimed.

Legolas ignored him. "Is Moralfien's true name Manadhien?" he asked. When Dannenion's jaw dropped and Dolwon gasped, Legolas was hard pressed to stifle his own, similar reaction. He was right! She was!

"How in all of Arda did you find that out?" Tulus asked. "Glilavan would have never confessed it, no matter what Thranduil did to him." He did not sound surprised that Moralfien was Manadhien, only that Legolas had figured it out.

Legolas could not hide his reaction to that. He turned slowly to Tulus, looking at him with wide eyes. "You knew that," he said. It was not a question. He could not believe that Tulus had known where to find Manadhien! Protecting Glilavan was one thing. Protecting Manadhien was another entirely! How could Tulus have allowed her to hide?

Tulus made a belated effort to bring his expression under control. He held out both hands, palms out, facing Legolas. "Please come into the Hall so we can explain this to you..." he said.

Legolas turned away from him, trying not to think...but he could not help it. Tulus knew and he not admitted it to the king either! "You are all going in the Hall. That is certain," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. He took a step back so they could pass by him and pointed towards the door. "Go," he said. Then he looked towards Galuauth. "I need help," he called.

Galuauth only hesitated a moment before jogging the short distance between his post and the Hall.

"Legolas," Tulus pleaded.

Legolas shook his head. "Go into the Hall," he repeated, refusing to look at him.

Tulus hesitated, but then complied, herding Dannenion and Dolwon ahead of him.

Legolas focused on Galuauth. "The king is questioning Glilavan. Send someone to tell him that I know where Manadhien is. Tell him exactly that."

Galuauth had been a guard long enough to know what that meant. He tensed and looked at Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon.

"Get someone to take your post at the door and come back here. Quickly," Legolas continued.

Galuauth sketched a quick bow. "Yes, my lord. Please remain here, within my sight, while I do as you ask." Without waiting for a reply, he ran to the door of the family quarters and called for one of the servants inside to carry Legolas's message. Then he signaled the more experienced of the two guards at the Great Gates to cover his post. Legolas heard him instructing that guard that no one outside the king's family was to enter the family quarters. After he gave those orders, he returned to Legolas's side. "Where is she?" he whispered, as they turned to go into the Hall.

"In Dolgailon's village," Legolas replied, stifling an exhausted, bitter laugh when Galuauth's jaw dropped. That reaction was nothing compared to the one the king would make. And Dolgailon. They slowly walked the length of the center aisle.

Tulus faced him as he approached. "We were coming to speak to the king about this," he said when Legolas finally reached the meeting table. "That is why we asked where he was." His tone begged for understanding.

Legolas stared at his former guard in silence. How could he have protected Manadhien? The question echoed over and over in his mind. "How long have you known, Tulus?" he finally demanded. "The entire time you knew Glilavan was plotting with her? Since my grandparent's deaths?"

Tulus did not answer. He did not have to. He could not hide his shame. Or remorse.

Galuauth gasped.

Legolas looked away from Tulus. He could not bear to see the pain in his eyes, but he refused to be moved by it. Then another, even worse thought occurred to him. "Did you know when we went to the village?" he asked. "Did you know when you left Galithil and I with Galuauth to go speak to her?"

"Tulus, please say that you did not," Galuauth said, his voice barely a whisper.

"I swear I did not," Tulus answered swiftly. "I did not find out until after...until afterwards."

"When?" Legolas demanded. "When did you find out?"

Tulus looked down. "When I went to spy on the village after the king returned to the stronghold," he admitted.

Legolas gaped at him. "You told the king that you did not see her. You lied to his face. And mine. Then you sat in silence while I defended you. And you remained silent for the last six years while Manadhien governed my uncle's village-the largest village in the south. What damage, beyond plotting against me, has she done the king while in that position, Tulus?"

"As little as I could manage," Tulus answered. "Please listen to me. Give me an opportunity to explain this."

"The king can give you that," Legolas said. "But I have heard all that I can bear."

"My lord, please," Tulus begged.

Legolas ignored him. He walked to the opposite end of the meeting table from where Dannenion and Dolwon had sat and he collapsed into a chair.

Almost as soon as he did, Thranduil, Hallion, Engwe and Conuion charged into the Hall, bringing Dannenion and Dolwon to their feet. Legolas did not stand. He was too exhausted. In his peripheral vision, Legolas saw his father's gaze fix on him as he entered the room, silently demanding an explanation for the message he received. But a moment later, Thranduil's pace slowed and he glared at Dannenion, Dolwon and Tulus.

"Speak," he said, looking between them. He stopped a few paces away from the table.

Dolwon looked from Thranduil to the doors of the Hall, as if measuring the possibility of escape. Dannenion looked at Tulus, eyes wide.

Tulus frowned. "My lord," he began. From his tone, he intended to make a lengthy explanation.

Thranduil held up his hand, interrupting him. "In one word, Tulus. Manadhien's location. Nothing more."

Tulus hesitated.

Legolas's temper snapped. "Dolgailon's village," he answered. "Under the name Moralfien."

"You cannot be serious," Thranduil exclaimed, turning to face him.

Legolas only nodded.

"You are certain of this?" He gestured to Tulus, Dannenion and Dolwon. "They told you?"

"I asked and Tulus confirmed it," Legolas replied.

Thranduil turned on Tulus, his expression alone enough to drive Tulus back a step. He appeared to be ready to drop to his knees, but Thranduil prevented that. He closed the distance between himself and Tulus in two long steps, grasping the front of Tulus's tunic.

Legolas let his face fall into his hands, elbows propped on the table. He had no desire to see this.

"I do not believe that you..." Thranduil glanced at Dannenion and Dolwon. "That any of you," he continued, "discovered Manadhien's whereabouts in the few short hours since we last spoke. Tell me: how long have you known that Manadhien was in that village? How long have you allowed her to poison the elves there?"

"My lord, please listen..."

Legolas heard a shuffling of feet and a sharp gasp. He raised his head. Thranduil had jerked Tulus forward until they stood nose to nose.

"Answer my question, Tulus."

"I have known that she was there since Lord Amglaur and Lady Limmiel were killed," Tulus answered. "But I did not know until after the attack in which they died."

Thranduil's face contorted in rage. He shoved Tulus backwards, pushing him roughly into one of the chairs at the table, hard enough to rock it back against the table, making the table itself jump. Tulus stifled a groan and tried to twist his injured back away from the high, solid back of the chair Thranduil now pinned him in.

Legolas sat up straighter. "My lord," he said softly.

Thranduil did not hear him. He pointed at Dannenion and Dolwon with one hand while holding Tulus in place with the other on his chest. "You two. How long have you known?"

"Since she moved to the village, my lord," Dannenion answered in a whisper. "After lord Aradunnon's death."

"Why did you not tell me this when I asked you if you knew where she was yesterday?"

"As I told you then, my lord, we are afraid you will go after her and leave her servants free to hunt our families. If I had told you yesterday that she was in that village, you would be half way to that village now and she would be halfway to the border, fleeing you. You have to eliminate her servants if you hope to catch her," Dannenion answered.

Thranduil turned away from him with an annoyed growl. "And you?" he asked Tulus, giving him a shake that jarred him against the chair and forced a pained grunt from him.

Legolas stood.

Hallion took a step towards Thranduil and laid a hand on his arm. "He is injured, my lord," he said quietly.

Thranduil ignored him. "What is your excuse for hiding this information from me? How can you possibly justify hiding Manadhien?"

"She threatened me. And Glilavan," Tulus answered.

Thranduil loosed a derisive snort.

That reaction seemed to prompt Tulus to speak. "After Lord Amglaur's death, when you sent me to see if I could find any sign of her, I found her in the village. Leading it. I was in her talan, prepared to arrest her, and she showed me reports that Glilavan and I had written. At the time, I did not know if Glilavan sent the ones in his hand or not, but I knew I did not send the ones in mine, so I hoped that he was innocent. That there was some explanation for how she had them. She told me that if I took her to you, Fuilin or Mauril would see to it that you received evidence, like those reports, that incriminated me and Glilavan before we even made it back to the stronghold. She said she would denounce us herself as well. She would be certain that if you executed her, you would execute us as well. Or if you exiled us all, she said that once we were all outside the forest, she would kill Glilavan before my eyes and then she would kill me and return to hunting Legolas. So I pretended to be cowed and I left her in place, because it was obvious she was going no where. Look at the position she has made for herself. And because retreating temporarily gave me time to see if Glilavan was innocent-unfortunately he was not-and to find out who her servants are. I thought I had discovered them all until Lord Legolas and I met Pelin and Lagril. They, I admit, I have never seen."

Legolas listened to that defense with his eyes closed. He could understand Tulus's decision, to some degree. Tulus still should have come forward, just as he should have trusted the king to help Glilavan, not execute him. But Legolas at least understood his fears.

Thranduil appeared somewhat mollified as well. "What do you mean by, 'it gave you time to find out who her servants are?' What have you found?" he demanded. His voice was still angry, but his grip on Tulus loosened enough to allow him to sit forward. Blood stained the back of his tunic.

"For the last six years, every moment that I was not with Legolas, I have been watching Glilavan and his communication with Manadhien. To find out who her servants are," Tulus answered. "I can tell you, for example, that Solchion, Baranil and Lumil are the names of the elves that I have seen deliver messages to Glilavan and carry his back to her over the last years. They are guards in the village, according to Lord Dolgailon. From his tone when I mentioned their names to him, he is not positively impressed by them. But I can see how Manadhien won their loyalty. The three of them carry swords that she bought for the village. Swords nearly as fine as the ones you purchased for Legolas and Galithil. I can also tell you that the two times that I saw Fuilin in the capital, he approached from the west and departed traveling westward. If you want to hunt him, I would go west."

Thranduil studied Tulus for a long moment. Then he took a step away from him, releasing his grip on him entirely. "Sit," he said, speaking to Dannenion and Dolwon. He moved to his own place at the head of the table. Hallion and Engwe seated themselves as well, while Tulus righted his chair to properly face the table.

Everyone waited silently for Thranduil to speak. "So, given Lagril and Pelin's part in Legolas's abduction, you believe she has still more servants that you are not aware of?" he finally asked.

Tulus drew a long, quiet breath. "When I watched her in the village after Lord Amglaur's death, I saw messengers that I could not identify visiting her. Three of them. Baranil and Lumil I soon saw with Glilavan once I returned here. The third, Solchion, I had to wait until just this year to identify. I only saw him rarely in the capital and Glilavan never called him by name when I could hear it. He finally did recently. I thought I had them all and I was preparing my next move. But, apparently I did not. I had never seen Lagril and Pelin. Perhaps they do not carry messages for her. If they have served her family longer than even Fuilin, they are probably too valuable to be messengers. I did not see them when I watched her in the village either, but I only watched her there for a week."

"So, you would recommend watching her in the village, to see if we can identify any more of her servants? Thranduil asked.

"Yes, my lord," Tulus said, trying to hide his surprise. "That would be my recommendation."

Thranduil tapped his thumb against the table several times rapidly. He turned to Galuauth. "Find Dolgailon for me," he ordered.

Legolas frowned, looking rapidly between Hallion, Engwe and his father. Hallion's face was unreadable. Engwe was leaned forward in his chair, looking intently at the king. He appeared to have something to say, but was hesitating. Legolas raised an eyebrow. That was unprecedented in his experience.

"My lord, are you considering leaving her in place to spy on her?" Legolas asked in a quiet voice.

Thranduil's gaze shifted from staring at Tulus, still obviously considering what he had said, to Legolas. He frowned and looked slightly confused by Legolas's position at the far opposite end of the table. "I am," he answered simply.

"I do not deny that doing so may lead to finding her servants, and I do, obviously, agree that is important. But you should be aware that when Galithil and I were in that village, we had the impression that Moralfien was ... a divisive presence there," Legolas said cautiously. If Engwe was afraid to challenge the king at this moment...

"Be more specific," Thranduil ordered.

"There were those in the village that appeared to support her," Legolas replied, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. "And others who seemed to at least respect some of what she had done in the village, such as buying those swords. But there were a good many-Galithil said he knew them as friends of uncle Aradunnon-that openly disliked her. The head guard, Seregon, was one such person. He was the guard that greeted us on our arrival and he said to us that he missed uncle Aradunnon's leadership. He later implied that he did not approve of Moralfien's. And she did not make a secret, even in my presence, of mocking Sindar rule of this forest or of Lorien. Galithil was so concerned about what he saw there that he spoke to Dolgailon about it. I understand that he recommended to him that he return to the village, permanently."

Thranduil's eyebrows climbed. "I never heard any of this. How did Dolgailon respond to that?"

"I was not present when Galithil spoke to Dolgailon," Legolas said. "I do not know what Dolgailon's response was." He did not add that Galithil was not satisfied with whatever it was.

"My response to what?" Dolgailon asked, coming out from behind the tapestry behind the throne. He had entered the Hall through the door behind it.

Thranduil shook his head and gestured to Legolas to remain silent. "Sit down, Dolgailon. I have some news that you will find disturbing."

Dolgailon sat, scanning Hallion and Engwe's subdued expressions and Dannenion, Dolwon and Tulus's fearful ones. Finally his gaze settled on Thranduil, looking at him expectantly.

"There is no way to make this less shocking," Thranduil said. "Tulus has just revealed that Moralfien and Manadhien are the same person."

Dolgailon's eyes flew open wide and he released a breath as if he'd been punched. "How did you find that out?" he asked Tulus. Then his head swiveled to face Thranduil. "Who are you sending to arrest her? I want to go with them."

Thranduil held out his hand to silence the rest of the questions and exclamations that were ready to pour out of Dolgailon. "What is your judgment of her rule of that village?" he asked instead of answering the questions Dolgailon had issued.

Dolgailon laughed. "Well, I did not much like it and I can see why now," he answered. Then he frowned severely. "I have no idea who I will entrust with the governance of that village. I cannot do it myself. Not now. I have to find someone to captain the Training Program, and likely will have to do it myself until I can find someone. Whoever I appoint as its captain will need some help, at least initially, and their promotion will leave another patrol down by one officer, who will then also need replaced." He fell silent, shaking his head in frustration.

"Did she do so terrible a job that we could not leave her in place a while longer?" Thranduil asked.

Dolgailon's jaw dropped. "Leave her in place!" he repeated, as if he had not understood.

"Dannenion, Dolwon and Tulus all believe that it is essential that we arrest her servants along with her, lest they hide while continuing to hunt our family. They have convinced me that is necessary. I have spent nearly this entire Age searching for her. Now that I know where she is, as long as I can keep track of her, I can be patient until I locate her servants too. And if she feels secure in that village, her servants will continue to openly approach her there. Tactically, Dolgailon, you know the only way to win this war is to eliminate my enemy's entire force. That is what I must do."

Dolgailon drew a breath to argue. Then he closed his mouth and leaned against the back of his chair, never taking his gaze off Thranduil. "I do not like it," he finally said. "I am very uncomfortable leaving her in charge of that village. How do you intend to watch for her servants? Spies?"

Thranduil nodded. "Led by Tulus," he began.

Tulus's eyebrows went up and his gaze darted to the king.

"Since he will recognize all her known servants and particularly Fuilin, Mauril, Lagril and Pelin," Thranduil continued. "I will send half a dozen others with him, to help him keep watch."

Tulus's eyes widened even further. "Since I will recognize Fuilin and Mauril?" he repeated. "Are they not here? Locked in the stronghold? I thought lord Celonhael was taking them here."

Thranduil looked at him steadily. "They killed him and escaped," he replied.

Tulus only stared at Thranduil, mouth open and obviously stricken. Dannenion and Dolwon exchanged several quick, panicked whispers.

Dolgailon turned to Tulus. "How long do you expect it will take you to identify all of her servants?"

Tulus shook his head, trying to focus despite the shocking news that Celonhael was dead and he would, apparently, now be spying on Manadhien. "I have no idea, my lord. It took me almost six years to feel certain I had identified all of Manadhien's messengers to Glilavan and learn their names. Of course, we do not have to learn names and, presumably, I will be free to follow whoever I find with her where ever I need to follow them, so that will make this easier. Still, I would recommend watching her for no less than a year, to make sure we have everyone. Of course, ultimately, we will have to watch her for as long as Fuilin and Mauril stay in hiding, if we want to capture them. Lagril and Pelin too, if they are not with her in that village. It entirely depends on how lucky we are finding them."

Dolgailon folded his arms across his chest, frowning, but he said nothing.

"There are obviously some difficulties that we will have to manage carefully in order to maintain control over this situation," Thranduil said.

"Indeed," Dolgailon interrupted, laughing bitterly. "For example, the fact that we believe Manadhien to be in league with orcs. What happens if she catches on to the fact that she is being watched and decides to create a diversion to escape. If I were in league with orcs and wanted a diversion to escape a village, I would send the orcs to attack it. I will have to alter the patrols around that village if we are to do this. I cannot allow the people in it to come to harm by trusting her to defend them."

"She will be suspicious if you alter the patrols," Engwe said. "Her village guards will notice if you do it."

"I can increase the patrols outside the range of the village's guards. The guards will not notice that."

"But have we not suspected in the past that Manadhien herself has spies that send her information about the patrols?" Hallion asked.

"All those spies are either sitting in this room or are locked in the store rooms," Dolgailon answered. "I assume we believe the people in this room are now trustworthy, given that we are discussing this in their presence. That it is their advice that we are following to do this in the first place."

"We do not know for a fact that all her spies are currently in this stronghold, my lord," Tulus countered. "Granted, it is very likely that without Glilavan, her best source of information is lost, but she could very well have made allies amongst warriors in the patrols, who then innocently share information with her, thinking they are serving a village leader."

"I am not leaving the safety of that village in the hands of a murderer in league with orcs being watched by only six spies. That is entirely out of the question and I will not agree to it. I am increasing the patrols."

"I am not arguing against increasing the patrols, my lord," Tulus said. "I would like to try to influence your timing. Give me a month to watch her and find out how she is getting information about the patrols. Once we know more about the information she still can get, and from where, we might be able to use that to our advantage or at least be certain we can increase the patrols without making her suspicious."

Dolgailon loosed a long breath. "Very well. I will wait. A month. I will be very hesitant to wait more than that," he replied.

"And once we feel certain we can increase the patrols without arousing her suspicions, you have warriors available to do that?" Thranduil asked.

"I will have to make some changes, but I can manage it," Dolgailon answered. "And, it can even be passed off as part of the adaptations made necessary by the change in officers in the Training Program. So, it should not attract too much attention."

"Security concerns are settled then," Thranduil said. "Another issue that we must manage is the effect Manadhien has on the attitude of the villagers. She has undoubtedly been been poisoning those people, unchecked, for the last twenty years and we cannot allow that to continue, even in the interest of capturing all her servants. I have no idea how we can curb her influence in this area. Suggestions?"

"After Amglaur's death, Galithil mentioned to me that he was concerned that he saw essentially two groups of people in the village-those that supported Manadhien and those that wished for Adar's return. Or mine. He encouraged me to return to the village," Dolgailon said quietly.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

"I did not then, and do not now, feel that I could command the patrols separated from the stronghold by such a distance, so I told him that I would not return to the village," he continued. "But I did speak to several people while I was there to get a better idea what Galithil meant. I found that Manadhien was making statements that did not show support for this family or for Sindar rule in general. I confronted her and told her that I would not tolerate hearing another single report of such commentary. If she intended to govern my village in my place, she would show me and my family complete respect." He laughed. "I must give her credit. She is an outstanding liar. Her reaction to that demand appeared sincerely repentant. I correspond with several people in the village more regularly now, in the interest of monitoring if she has obeyed that demand, and according to them, she has."

"Why do I get the impression that you still do not feel that situation is resolved then?" Thranduil asked when Dolgailon paused.

"She may only be wiser about who she is spreading her poison to. I do not know. Spies should be able to answer that question, though. But more importantly, her words may be poisonous, but her actions are more so," he replied. "For example, there is the incident of her buying swords for the guards. Before I knew who she was, I saw that as an innocent overstep of her bounds. She told me that she intended to be helpful. To increase security through her own generosity. I believed that, but I told her it was unacceptable. She refused to acknowledge that there was anything wrong with what she had done, so I told her that I expected her to send me regular reports of her decisions while governing the village. She has complied with that request and, as painful as it is to admit, she does a good job managing the village. Her decisions are generally sound, she is efficient, and she is a strong leader. I have not had another complaint with her. Of course, now that I know who she is, I think it is clear that she did not buy swords to increase security; she bought swords to buy loyalty for herself and detract it from the king. That is obviously a problem."

"One that has not repeated itself?" Thranduil asked. "Perhaps for now you have managed that."

"Or perhaps she was in no position to buy any further loyalty because she was out of funds. Until now," Legolas interjected softly. Everyone turned to him. "She now has a large sack of gold coins. Negotiating a large sum in exchange for Anastor and I was clearly Fuilin's primary responsibility. She wanted gold more than she wanted me. Maybe she wanted it for some new scheme to buy more loyalty amongst the people in the south."

"That is believable," Dannenion whispered, looking nervously around the table. "She built support by reminding people of what the king does not do-send warriors, send supplies, whatever it might be. If she can make such statements while providing what Thranduil does not, the people in the south would be swayed by that."

Dolwon and Tulus both nodded in response to that.

"Watch her for signs of that," Thranduil ordered, looking between Dolgailon and Tulus. "If you catch her doing anything suspicious, tell me and we will decide how best to counter it," he said to Dolgailon. Then he turned to Tulus. "When you report to me, I want you to include any activities you see that might indicate she is building her own realm in that village. Clearly that is what she thinks she is doing. I want to curb it in any way I can without endangering the security and prosperity of that village."

"Yes, my lord," Tulus replied. Dolgailon nodded.

Thranduil directed himself fully to Tulus. "The last concern that I have is Manadhien herself. Will six elves be enough to keep constant watch on her? I will be extremely angry if she disappears."

Tulus took a long steadying breath before answering that question. "Six in addition to myself should be a perfectly adequate number, my lord, assuming none of them are dedicated to carrying messages to the stronghold. Communication-requesting aid or reporting vitally important information-will be difficult given the distances involved."

"We will need a hawk," Engwe said. "There are several trained to go to that village."

Dolgailon and Tulus both shook their heads. "I cannot recommend a hawk, my lord," Tulus replied. "A new hawk carrying messages would be easily noticed. Knowing the birds the king uses to carry messages, I had no trouble identifying the hawk Manadhien used to communicate with Glilavan once I confirmed there must be one."

"People-warriors from the patrols-would be even more easily noticeable," Hallion said. "And to carry messages for you, they would have to know you are there. They would be a potential means of discovery. I do not think we could use couriers."

"Do you think anyone would notice or be suspicious of an owl?" Thranduil asked.

"Are owls swift messengers, my lord," Dolgailon asked with a mildly amused expression.

"They are excellent spies. On children outdoors, at night, without permission," Legolas said dryly.

"And they would travel silently at night when few people would be watching," Tulus added. "But I did not think owls were easily trained."

"I am this realm's king," Thranduil replied quietly. "I serve it and in return, it serves me. If an owl suits, I know one that will help us."

The only response to that were raised eyebrows.

"Then this is settled?" Thranduil asked. "Other than selecting the elves that will go with Tulus." He looked at Dolgailon.

Dolgailon frowned. "You are certain of this, my lord? Certain it is wise? My adar would never have agreed to this. It is a terrible risk, both to the village and to the possibility of losing Manadhien."

"You are right that Aradunnon would never agree to do this," Thranduil replied. "For similar reasons, he also would have never allowed Tulus to rejoin the Guard, nor Galithil to betroth himself to Maidhien. His judgment concerning Manadhien and her various allies was not always sound. I will grant you that neither has mine been. But this is a risk I think we should take. Rule of that village is yours. I will not demand we follow this plan, but you will have to provide me with an alternative to hunt down her servants if you will not agree to it."

Dolgailon sighed. "I can think of none. I will agree to it. And I will hope it works with no further incidents."

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed. Then he turned to Dannenion and Dolwon. They straightened under his gaze, Dolwon shifting in his chair. "We have discussed what I expect of Tulus. Here is what I expect of you: you will report to me, immediately, any attempt, via hawk or messenger, that Manadhien or any of her servants make to communicate with you. You will bring to me any written message that she sends to you and if she or one of her servants visits you, you will do everything in your ability to bring them to the attention of a warrior or guard or member of this family. You will not conceal from me any further information about Manadhien or her servants. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," they both responded, promptly.

"You are dismissed from the service of this court," he continued. "I cannot allow you to continue to serve Golwon or anyone else inside the stronghold as long as Manadhien is at large. She has too much influence over you and I cannot risk it. After she and her servants are dealt with, we can revisit this decision, but until then you are free to return to whatever trade you prefer to practice, including the patrols, if you would like. You are free to do so where ever you like, but I would like to recommend that you remain in the capital. In the stronghold, if I can convince you of that. Not as prisoners, but merely for your safety until we can capture all of Manadhien's servants that might try to extract revenge from you."

Dannenion and Dolwon stared at Thranduil in silence for a long moment. "That is all?" Dannenion finally asked, his voice small. "I mean, I do not want to question you and end up with worse, but...that is our sentence, not what you have decided for our wives and children?"

"Be glad that you have wives and children who are innocent," Thranduil replied. "Many times my council and I have sat at this table, debating your reluctance to live within my law. Each time, while I was inclined to send you from the forest, thinking you would never be reconciled to my rule, the argument that I could not exile ellyth and especially children, or separate your family, held my hand. And I am glad that it did because I am convinced that you are now willing to live under my rule. Am I correct?"

They both nodded quickly. "Yes, my lord."

Thranduil tried to smile at them. It was a thin smile, but it was an effort. "Consult with your wives regarding whether you prefer to live inside the stronghold or in your cottages. If you prefer your cottages, I understand that, of course. I could arrange a guard, if you would like."

"I know Eregeth prefers the stronghold, my lord," Dannenion answered. "She is terrified that something else might happen to Anastor. Or to Maidhien. I doubt she could sleep or bear to be alone in our cottage."

Thranduil's expression grew very serious. "Speaking of Maidhien, she is your daughter, Dannenion. I recognize that. But she is a member of my family as well. And Fuilin openly threatened her. I would like your permission to assign her a guard, as the other members of my family have. I will do that regardless once she marries Galithil. I would prefer to do it now."

"I will not object," Dannenion said. "But she might."

"She may do so all she likes," Thranduil replied. "As long as we agree, she will find her objections will be quite ineffective." He turned to Conuion. "See to that. Consult both Maidhien and Galithil for their preferences of the guards you think would be suitable and then bring me two or three names. I will make the final decision. The guard we choose, like Legolas and Galithil's, will report to me, at least until Galithil is of age."

"Yes, my lord," Conuion replied.

Thranduil turned back to Dannenion. "One more issue, Dannenion. I know that Dolwon is your family and he will help you. And though Anastor may be angry, he will come around. Even before he does, I am sure he will help be responsible for his family. But, we are also family, you and I. Do not hesitate to ask me if there is anything you need while you are adapting to..." he glanced at Dannenion's arm. "Your new condition. I cannot imagine how difficult that is for you and, to be honest, I am, at least in part, responsible for what happened to you. It would not have happened if I had spoken to you before I went after Legolas. You justly criticized me for not listening to you. I would make amends for that if there is any way I can."

Dannenion bowed his head to hide his surprise. "Your offer to allow us to remain in the stronghold is more than enough, my lord. Since I can no longer defend my family."

"I knew many elves that lost limbs in the Wars of Beleriand and of Wrath. They all learned to fight again, Dannenion," Thranduil said softly. "Even to use a bow. Langon taught them. You could work with him when you are well enough healed. Either Dolgailon or I could arrange it for you. Let me know if you would like to."

Dannenion nodded, still without looking up. "Thank you, my lord, I will."

"Go tell your families that this is settled then," Thranduil said. "I will make sure Galion knows you are staying in case there are more appropriate long term accommodations for you. I am sure that living inside the stronghold seems strange to you. Galithil and Legolas...any of us, can help you find ways to be more comfortable."

Dannenion and Dolwon stood. Dolwon hopped up, in truth. "Thank you, my lord," they both said. Then they bowed and hurried from the Hall as Thranduil dismissed them.

Thranduil held out a hand to keep Tulus in place as they left. Once they passed through the doors of the Hall, Thranduil turned to Conuion.

"Dannenion, I trust. I believe this experience taught him how dangerous Manadhien is, if nothing else. Dolwon, I do not trust at all. Put a watch on them both to ensure that they obey my expectations of them."

Conuion nodded.

"Manadhien's hawks met Glilavan in the tall, dead tree near the training fields," Tulus told him. "The one the bees are moving their hive to. They will only come down for whoever they are trained to meet, no matter what you offer them, so do not waste your time with that. If she sent messengers, they met Glilavan by the elm growing amongst the beeches on the path that leads to Lord Dolgailon's village. The one just outside the range of the guard. Of course, I never saw Dannenion or Dolwon receive messages in either of those places and they said they still received them from her until recently, so maybe their messages go different places, but perhaps that information will help you still."

Conuion nodded again and, for the first time in days, his expression towards Tulus softened slightly.

"It will make it easier to ensure Legolas and Galithil go no where near either of those places, at any rate," Thranduil said, looking down the table at Legolas.

"Understood," Legolas said quietly.

Thranduil turned back to Tulus. "Let me make perfectly clear what I expect from you," he said sternly. Sternly enough to make Tulus begin to rise, but Thranduil reached and held him in place with a hand on his arm. Then he leaned forward to look directly into his eyes as he spoke. "Do not lose track of Manadhien. That is your responsibility. You may have the time you deem necessary to find Fuilin, Mauril, Lagril and Pelin. And to identify and track any other servants she might have. But I want you to eventually deliver Manadhien, Fuilin, Mauril, Lagril and Pelin to me. And I want that to happen before she destroys the southern part of my realm. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Tulus answered.

"As for Fuilin, Mauril, Lagril and Pelin, I do not care what happens to them. My intent, when I receive them here, is to execute them. They cannot be sent to Aman in any other way since they are barred from taking ship, I cannot free them into exile and I cannot safely imprison them. So executing them is my only option. But if they are killed while being captured, I do not care. Manadhien, on the other hand, I want alive. I want to look her in the eyes and make certain that she recognizes her defeat. If you lose her, Tulus, I will exile you from this forest and never allow you to return. You are personally responsible for bringing her to me. Again, is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord," he answered again.

"You do not have to do this. If you do not want to do it, I can send someone else to lead my spies. If you choose not to..." Thranduil leaned back and took a deep breath. His hand, resting on the table, balled into a fist. "I am furious with you, Tulus. For hiding Glilavan's plotting and for hiding Manadhien's location from me. I understand the fears that led you to make the choices you did, but they do not change the fact that you committed treason. In my mind, though you both did the same thing, your crime is worse than Dannenion's because you made an oath to my house to protect it and you failed in that oath by hiding this information. If you choose not to take on the responsibility of capturing Manadhien and her servants, you are dismissed from my service and I want you to leave the capital. I will not ask you to leave the forest, because I believe you to be loyal to it and, generally speaking, to me. But I do not want to see your face, to be honest with you, I am too angry with you to be able to tolerate seeing it."

Tulus looked at Thranduil evenly. "My lord, if you had not asked me to do this... If you had ordered me to leave the capital or even the forest entirely, I would still be going to that village to spy on Manadhien, find her servants and finish all of them." He glanced at Dolgailon, "I mean no offense and I certainly do not intend this as a threat, but the patrols would never have caught me. I have lived in this forest since long before the Moon and Sun arose. I know it and I can hide in it if I choose. I will do so until I have her. You are angry with her because she threatened your family and killed three members of it. Well, she did the same to mine. She killed my cousin, Candirith. She did not kill Glilavan, but she took him from me just the same. What she did to my son is worse than killing him. You are not the only person in this forest that wants her finished, my lord. I will not lose her."

"Is that what Glilavan meant when he challenged you to 'take the final step?'''

"He meant for me to betray her location to you. But he believed, and I did too, that you would rush to arrest her and she would benefit from your haste and escape from you. I would not have allowed that to happen. She is not getting away from me. I want to watch her die with my own eyes, and I would be happy to do it myself."

"And that is what you meant when you told Glilavan that you intended to, just not in the way he expected-you intended to go kill her yourself?"

"That is what I have been planning for the last six years, my lord. How to eliminate them all and end this once and for all. Even if I had to do it alone."

Thranduil nodded. "That is what I thought. We understand each other, then."

"Yes, my lord. We do."

"You, Conuion and Dolgailon can discuss together who will assist you in this. I want regular reports. At least twice a week. When you have decided who is going with you, come tell me and I will introduce you to the owl you may use to carry your reports."

Tulus stood in response to the implied dismissal and bowed, but he hesitated before leaving. "May I ask, my lord, what you have decided to do with Glilavan?" he asked, gaze fixed on the floor.

"Glilavan tried to kill my son, this realm's prince and my heir, before my eyes in the Great Hall, Tulus," Thranduil replied, his tone heated. "And he confessed that he helped Fuilin escape. He confessed that he shot Celonhael, though it was Fuilin that finished him."

Tulus closed his eyes and covered them with his hand.

"I am sending him, under heavy guard, to the Havens and putting him on a ship. Be it his will or not, he is going to Aman to face the judgment of the Valar for his crimes. I pray he can come to some understanding of what he has done there."

"Thank you, my lord," Tulus whispered. "I am so sorry for what he has done. And for my part in allowing it to happen."

Thranduil only nodded.

Tulus bowed again and turned towards the back of the Hall, to the doors. He had walked half way down the center aisle before Legolas rose from the end of the table and, with a glance at Thranduil, followed after him.

"Tulus, wait," he called.

Tulus stopped, hesitated a moment, and then turned to face Legolas. His face was composed, but his posture was tense.

"I apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier, Tulus. I was wrong not to listen to you. You have been my friend since I was an infant. I am not prepared to forfeit that friendship for what has happened. Please forgive me and let us part on good terms. It may be a long time before we see each other again." Legolas paused. "If we see each other again at all. What you are doing is very dangerous. Adar's anger with you is nothing compared to what Manadhien's must be. And she is a murderer."

Tulus stared at Legolas for a long moment in silence. Then he reached for Legolas's shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. "Thank you, my lord," he whispered, as Legolas returned his embrace. "I am truly sorry for being dishonest with you."

Legolas shook his head. "I wish you had not been. I do not agree at all with the choices you made. But I do understand them, to a certain extent. I wish for your sake something could have been done to help Glilavan. I cannot imagine how painful it has been for you to see everything that has happened with him. You did not deserve it, Tulus. I am certain that you made a wonderful father because you have been like one to me and I will miss you."

"I will miss you too, my lord," Tulus said, voice breaking as he pushed Legolas to arms length and held him there. "You promised me that you would be safe. I expect you to keep that promise."

Legolas smiled. "I will. To the best of my abilities. You do the same."

Tulus nodded.

"Will you make me another promise, Tulus?" Legolas asked, his voice quiet.

"If I can, my lord, I will," he responded.

"Do what you must to comply with the duty the king has given you, obviously. But do not kill Manadhien's servants yourself unless you have no other option. It is bad enough that the king must execute them to protect the forest. I can assure that killing them for vengeance will not deliver you the satisfaction that you believe it might."

Tulus's hands tightened on Legolas's shoulders and he bent forward slightly to hold his gaze. "You did what you had to do, my lord-what you were forced to do by evil beyond your control. You did it, as is not only your right, but your also your duty, to protect Dannenion, Anastor and yourself-and thus the forest, because the king would not long survive your death. It was completely justified."

"With Demil, perhaps," Legolas replied in a whisper. "But, Tulus, I would have killed Glilavan if he had killed you and that would have been vengeance, not justice. I am not able to defend putting a knife to his throat, when Conuion had already subdued him. I am not at all proud of my actions then."

"You have your daeradar's temper at times. And his fierce loyalty. I admit that these are not always good qualities, Legolas. You must control them and not the other way around. If you can control them, they, in turn, will serve you very well." Saying that, he released Legolas, stepped back and bowed. "We will meet again, my lord. Perhaps when we do, this business will be finished."

"I hope it will be," Legolas agreed. And he watched as Tulus turned and exit the Hall.

* * *

Gwaith-i-Mirdain - the jewel smiths, led by Celebrimbor, that made the Rings of Power.

Annatar - the name Sauron used, while in fair guise, manipulating the jewel smiths in Ost-in-Edhil to his own ends.

AN: This is the end of Bitter Paths. The aftermath of this installment will be shown in the next story, which will be set immediately after this story. I should start posting it sometime soon.


End file.
